


Every Rose

by Fixy



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Comfort, Drunk Tattoos, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Friends to Lovers, I haven’t seen this AU in this fandom yet so here we gooooo, Masturbation, Sexting, Smut, and there is Lizzo, hammock attack, sexy sex sex, there are plants, there are pranks, there are tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 104,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fixy/pseuds/Fixy
Summary: Some people just don’t get along, but some do, and just don’t know it yet.orThe tattoo parlour and flower shop AU I haven’t yet seen done in this fandom





	1. American Robin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hiya hello, this is L or Fixy or honestly whatever else you fancy, I’m not really fussed. 
> 
> Here is a story I’ve started writing! It’s gonna be a long one, but I think it’ll be an okay one, so tag along if you want. It will include PLANTS and TATTOOS and THE FLU and LIZZO, and many more things!
> 
> Anyways, please leave a comment if you like it.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> L xo

You don’t get to where Eve is without hard work.

She was brought up with it drilled into her by her parents, her teachers, her tutors; ‘You won’t get anywhere without hard work’. 

So Eve worked hard, and she got results. 

Eve liked results. 

She threw herself into everything with results as her motivation. She aced tests, passed top of her classes, made enough money delivering papers and washing cars to buy herself the little things she wanted. She was a force to be reckoned with in athletics through middle school and high school, she was the first to sign up for extra curricular projects, and she was valedictorian when it came time to graduate. 

Some called her an overachiever; she called it hard work. 

Eve wasn’t upset when they moved back to England. England meant new rules and new lessons and new opportunities. New challenges. 

She studied Anthropology at the University of Kent, devouring every comprehensive perspective on what it means to be human through culture, the arts, history, biology and evolution. She joined any group that would give her something new to learn without driving herself into an early, exhausted grave, and discovered she had a talent for drawing. 

So she drew. 

Eve studied Anthropology, and drew the lecture themes. She played football (football, Eve, not soccer anymore) with uni friends, and drew what she could remember from the matches. She worked part time at a pub, and drew the building on her breaks. She tutored kids at the nearby tennis club, and drew the surrounding nature after her sessions. 

She drew. 

And she loved it. 

She went to life classes, sketched at museums, joined art groups, doodled in notebooks. She tried her hand at realism, illustration, technical drawing, manga. She dabbled in watercolour pencils, oil pastels, charcoal, chalk.

She was better at drawing styles with more rules, but that’s not to say she didn’t enjoy letting the pencil glide out of the realms of normality. She liked to play with bold lines and patterns just as much as she liked capturing photo like perfection on paper. It depended on her mood, really.

In short, Eve liked to draw. 

She got her first tattoo when she was 21. She’d drawn it out carefully, got it exactly the way she wanted, worked hard on the design. It was the American robin, the state bird of Connecticut, and it was a way for her to proudly show where she’d grown up. Her design was an adaptation of the bird, with flowing lines and faded edges, identifiable enough to be the American robin but unique enough to be truly her own. 

When she got to the tattoo parlour she’d chosen for its good reviews, she was seated on a leather sofa by a sweet girl with piercings in her lip and candy pink hair, who told Eve to wait just a few minutes while the artist prepped the chair. The low table in front of her housed huge portfolio books, and as Eve flipped one open she found sleeve after plastic sleeve full of drawings. 

She quickly opened all of the books up and spread them in front of her, turning random pages, drinking in the colours and designs and contrasts between what were clearly the different styles of the various artists that worked at this studio. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes when a short guy walked over and caught her attention with a laugh. 

“Having fun?”

He had a nice laugh, sort of scratchy, like he’d been talking or singing for too long. Eve looked up and took in the muscled guy in front of her, arms filled with dark lines and rich colours, his beard scruffy around the edges and his eyes bright behind his somewhat boring glasses. 

“There’s so much.”

It’s all Eve can think to say right now, still half lost in the amount of work in front of her. 

“Yeah, it’s a lot.” He says, walking around to her side of the table and peering down at the open portfolios. “Any time we draw some flash or whatever, it goes in those. And we spend a lot of time drawing, so.” 

He gestures at the spread with a hand, smiling, and Eve smiles back. 

“I love to draw.” She says, “I know I don’t look the type, but I love it. And all of this is just…” Eve trails off and shakes her head. 

“I’m Joe.” Says the artist, reaching out his hand to shake Eve’s. “That’s my folder there. Full of a few years’ worth of drawing and doodles now. People choose pieces from it now and again, but I just can’t stop myself from packing more into it.”

He laughs again, and Eve pulls his book towards her, flicking through the pages. His work is bold, with thick lines and deep colours, but with a certain something that lends them a stained glass window sort of look, like his tattoos should be in the windows of cathedrals, not in the pages of plastic wallets tucked inside a book. 

Eve feels like the weight of the slip of paper in her pocket, the paper her design is meticulously drawn onto, and it’s all of a sudden uncomfortable. She looks up at Joe, eyes focussed, and feels something far beyond the decision of a tattoo settle inside her chest. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” she says, smiling at his confused look. “Forget the design I sent you the photo of. I want one of yours.”

Joe is smiling now too, but his eyebrows stay furrowed in confusion.

“You sure?” He half chuckles, “I don’t want you to regret a last minute decision.”

“I’m sure,” Eve nods, “Just look at all of this. The passion and the feeling and the hard work… I want one of your designs. A bird, if you have one.”

Joe is smiling fully now as he starts to walk away from the table, nodding his head towards a massage style chair wrapped in cling film in the corner. 

“How about I draw one for you right now, an American robin.” He throws over his shoulder as he moves, “and you can show me your drawings too, while we talk. Who knows, maybe you’d make a good tattoo artist. Maybe you’ll have someone walk into your own studio one day, asking for you to draw them a bird.”

Eve’s heart flutters at the thought, and suddenly, after years of trying everything she can get her hands on, after learning everything available to her and working her ass off to discover it all, Eve knows what she wants to spend the rest of her life working hard on.

——

“Eve?”

Maybe if she doesn’t say anything, he’ll stop shouting for her from the front room and she can get on with her full inbox of emails.

“Eve!”

She rolls her eyes and groans. 

“What do you want, Hugo?” Eve shouts back, rubbing at her forehead in frustration. “You know I’m busy.”

There’s the sound of muffled voices from the next room and Eve thinks that maybe Hugo will drop whatever ridiculous reason he needs her for so she can carry on with her emails, because honestly if she doesn’t get through at least a quarter of them today then-

“I know, but… she’s done it again.”

Eve doesn’t need telling _that_ twice. 

She slams her laptop shut with probably too much force as she pushes her chair back from her desk, then storms through her office space and into the studio. 

The work day is in full swing in the studio, with both of her artists tattooing clients. Kenny is in the middle of giving a burly guy a huge rib piece of ruler straight lines and shapes in seemingly random places, but knowing Kenny and his eye for detail, the tattoo will be a geometric masterpiece. Elena has two clients, girls around uni age, one watching excitedly as the other gets a tattoo featuring a vibrantly coloured nude woman surrounded by stars, another one of Elena’s popular ‘love yourself’ pieces.

Kenny is frowning at his work, tattoo gun in hand, clearly trying and failing to ignore what’s going on, while Elena is barely concealing her amusement at the entire situation. She glances up at Eve as she storms in, clearly struggling not to laugh, and Eve throws a scowl at her. 

Her body modification expert Hugo is standing by the large front window, arms folded as he stares out at what Eve expects to be the reason she won’t get her emails to clients answered any time soon. 

“Hugo,” she mutters darkly as she approaches. “You’ve been on front desk for an hour, how did you not notice her?”

Hugo turns to her and puts his hands up in defence. 

“I swear Eve, I answered the phone and looked away for like two minutes, max.” He says, exasperated and a little touchy at being blamed. “It’s like she was waiting, or something. I don’t know how she does it.”

Eve groans angrily, and looks out the window to see that yes, she has indeed ‘done it again’. 

The pathway outside of the studio is covered in old plant clippings, dead petals, and compost, already starting to dry out and warm up in the July sun. The stuff seems to be everywhere, it’s blocking people from walking on the path by the window and door, and Eve lets out an unhappy groan as she thuds her forehead against the glass. It’ll take forever to clean up. 

Eve sends a silent and mournful goodbye to her email answering session. 

She notices a young woman with curly blonde hair approach the studio then stop when she almost steps on the mess, nose wrinkling at the undoubtedly terrible smell. Eve sighs as she pushes herself away from the window and walks to the door.

She swings it open and smiles a strained smile at the woman. 

“Hello, are you my 2:15?”

The woman looks a bit taken aback by Eve’s sudden appearance. 

“Uh, yes, I think? 2:15 with Eve, I’m Amber. I’m-“

“Awesome, hi Amber,” Eve interrupts. “I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with me for a moment. I have a tiny issue I need to take care of first, as I’m sure you can see.”

Amber nods with wide eyes as Eve leaves the studio and takes a wide step over the mulch to walk along the road edge. She can feel Amber’s curious gaze on her back as she walks the 10 steps to the neighbouring building. 

Although an exact mirror image of her own two story red brick building, the front of the neighbouring store couldn’t be more different to Eve’s own. 

Eve’s tattoo parlour, Original Sin (she’ll forever be grateful to Joe for giving her that name idea 10 years prior), features only a door and large window, both with painted black frames, below a white sign bearing the studio’s name in clear, bold lettering. The sleek and minimal colouring works with the red brick perfectly, lending the studio a stylish, modern vibe that people on the street are drawn to, many of which peer through the window to watch the artists at work before sometimes wandering in themselves. 

The building next door, however, is another story. 

It’s a florist. 

Crammed along the wall of the shop front are flowers and potted plants, some perched on upturned crates and wooden pallets in a way that would look messy if it didn’t look so damn ‘instagram’. Vines of rich green leaves climb up the brick wall, crawling over the window and curling through the now unmovable awning, before finally twisting themselves around the ‘G’ of the bright pink neon sign fixed to the brick.

The cursive ‘Garden of Eden’ wording glows pink, even in the early afternoon sunlight . 

Eve often thinks it’s some kind of cruel twist of fate that her infuriating neighbour would call her flower shop something that relates to Eve’s studio name and her own name so much. 

Eve stops in front of the frustratingly beautiful storefront and steels herself. 

“Villanelle!” She barks angrily. 

Moments later, a head pops up at the window, waving cheerily at Eve.

Villanelle. 

Villanelle was the owner of Garden of Eden, and is, according to Elena, florist royalty. 

She is, according to Eve, a royal pain in the ass.

Villanelle seemed hell bent on ruining Eve’s working life. If she wasn’t dumping plant garbage in front of her studio, she was ordering sacks of fresh compost to be delivered and left at her studio door. If she wasn’t ordering compost, she was ‘accidentally’ spraying the studio window with her hose on full blast, making the artists jump while working. If she wasn’t spraying the window with her hose, she was parading up and down the path yelling about botany and charming people into the florist while blocking Eve’s door. 

And yeah, okay, so Eve gets back at Villanelle in turn every single time, but the stuff Eve does is _nowhere near_ as annoying, in her opinion. She blasts her studio music to ruin the gentle French tunes Villanelle plays in her florist. She slams the hinged lid of their giant shared outdoor bin extra hard against Villanelle’s side wall, and doesn’t apologise if she hears a shelved pot fall and crack followed by a muffled yell of anger. She smears the tattoo lotion they sell to customers all the way along Villanelle’s big window as she walks by to head to the coffee shop on the corner.

So you know, way less annoying. 

And anyway, Villanelle started it. 

But that’s not important right now. 

What’s important right now is Villanelle stepping out of her doorway, smiling as if nothing’s wrong and she hasn’t just dumped a load of stinking crap outside Eve’s studio. 

It only takes a second for Eve to look Villanelle up and down, taking in her, no doubt, designer jeans and her loose pastel blue tee that probably cost more than Eve’s tattoo sleeve. Her honey blonde hair is loose over her shoulders and her hands have smears if soil on them as she crosses her arms casually and grins at Eve. 

“Eve. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut the crap, Villanelle.” Eve bites out, “Why does the front of my studio look like your compost heap?”

Villanelle taps one mucky finger against her chin, faux thoughtfulness painted across her face. 

“Raccoons?” She shrugs, her soft Russian accent curling around the word. “Must be those pesky raccoons again, getting into the bins.”

Eve sighs angrily. 

“Once again, Villanelle, this is London.” Eve says, irritated. “There are no wild raccoons in London.”

Villanelle smiles pityingly from her doorway as if Eve is missing out on something the whole world already knows.

“There are on this street, Eve. Surely the last six times this has happened has shown you that.”

“No, Eve’s right, there are no raccoons in London.”

Eve looks over her shoulder to see her client, Amber, watching them both with innocent interest.

Eve looks back at Villanelle, whose face has dropped into a displeased grimace. 

“Who are you?” She asks, clearly annoyed that someone has interrupted her and Eve’s conversation. 

“She’s my 2:15,” Eve replies pointedly, “who couldn’t get through my front door because of the trail of shitty plant crap you left there.”

“It is not ‘shitty plant crap’, Eve,” Villanelle says hotly, and Eve smirks, satisfied that she’s hit the usual nerve. “That ‘crap’ is essential to the growth of green life, it’s the very _essence_ of-”

“Hey did you guys both name your shops after the whole Adam and Eve biblical thing on purpose? Because-”

“No.” Villanelle and Eve both bark at Amber at the same time. 

Eve turns back to Villanelle and glares at her. 

“Clean up your mess, Villanelle.” She says cooly, “or I’ll pour salt on your favourite monstera plant.”

“Do not drag the innocents into this,” Villanelle glowers and folds her arms tighter. “My babies have nothing to do with-”

“It’s twenty past, do I get a discount seeing as there’ll be less time for my tattoo?”

Eve is contemplating lying and telling Amber that she has a strict ‘no talking’ policy during her sessions. 

“And now you’ve cost me money.” Eve says to Villanelle, holding her arms out by her side before dropping them back down angrily. “Thanks a lot.”

Villanelle sneers and opens her mouth to reply just as Amber cuts her off with a happy clap. 

“Yay! Money off!”

Eve rolls her eyes and turns to hurry Amber back in the direction of her studio, stepping over lumps of compost as she does so. 

“Clean it up, Poison Ivy!” Eve yells grumpily over her shoulder. 

“Ask the raccoons, little robin!” Villanelle shouts back in a sing song voice.

“That was fun.” says Amber obliviously, to Eve.

“Shut up, Amber.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you reckon?
> 
> For those interested, the style of each tattoo artist in this fic is based on real tattoo artists I love the work of, so if you wanna picture what I’m picturing, here are their Instagram handles-
> 
> Joe’s work is based on @davewahtattoos (wish I could fly to the US just 4 him)
> 
> Eve’s work is based on @thomasbatestattoo (my sister has a tattoo by him, it’s amazing)
> 
> Elena’s work is based on @hollietoldmeto (I have a few pieces by her, she’s my favourite)
> 
> Kenny’s work is based on @mowgli_artist (honestly not sure how this guy is even real)
> 
> Any questions about anything, hmu :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading xo


	2. Red Velvet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, thank you so much for all of the comments and kudos! I’m so glad you’re liking this story so far, AND that you liked the switch up of the expected roles. 
> 
> I hope you like this part too :)

Villanelle first discovered the power of plants at the tender age of 7, when she accidentally killed her pet bunny, Lenoshka, by feeding it a bunch of foxgloves from a nearby field.

She still maintains her excuse from back then, that if Lenoshka had been a smarter bunny then she wouldn’t have eaten the flowers fed to her, because bunnies are supposed to be able to tell when plants are poisonous and therefore avoid them.

So really, it wasn’t little Villanelle’s fault.

After her second rabbit died from suspiciously similar circumstances, Villanelle was no longer allowed pets.

She was, however, allowed a library card, and luckily for her, the books that she was interested in were on the preapproved list for the Russian public.

Each weekend, she’d ask her parents to take her to the Russian State Library, where she’d spend hours pouring over information books on the types of flowers and plants that grew in Russia while her parents left to do some shopping. When her parents were finally able to convince her to leave each time, she’d beg them to let her borrow books on plants from the library to read at home, and each time they’d readily agree because a child reading non-fiction is better than a child poisoning the neighbourhood rabbits.

As Villanelle grew, so did her passion for all things plant based.

She found high school a breeze academically, excelling at languages and biology, whereas socially she was what her teachers described as ‘unwilling to work on her interpersonal skills’, whatever that meant. Her parents told her it was all the fighting, and the coercing of other kids out of their lunch, but Villanelle is still unconvinced.

When she turned 18, Villanelle began to make plans to move away from Russia. She needed more. More life, more greenery, more vibrancy, and Russia had started to lack in that area. Her parents were okay with her plan, more than happy to send her on her way with money, and with only a small amount of relief obvious on their faces when they realised their antiques would no longer be surrounded by climber plants.

The fact that they’d gain back the use of their conservatory without breathing in some type of slightly toxic pollen or vapour was also a plus; teenage Villanelle was a fan of the more dangerous vegetation. They still don’t know how she’d managed to get ahold of those particular types of seeds.

Discovering London had been bittersweet. Never had she been somewhere so full of learning and life, yet with so little green life in the spaces in between. It was all grey, all metal and old stone and roads, and to get to the greenery she had to take tubes or busses, and even then it was surrounded on every side by more grey.

She found herself a small but nice apartment and filled it with good looking furniture, pieces from boutiques and antique stores and anywhere else that boasted high-end furniture that could turn her mini flat into a luxurious pad. Every shelf was loaded with books on plants kept upright by the plants themselves, while each room corner housed large plants in beautifully glazed pots. Her favourite hanging plants trailed down gracefully from the curtain poles in every room and over the sides of her ceramic hanging planters to tickle at the sleek wooden floorboards and expensive wool rugs.

All in all it was a botany lover’s paradise, and it was Villanelle’s escape. Her home.

Never being one for the limitations of schooling, Villanelle decided that university wasn’t for her. She already knew from books what they’d teach her anyway, so skipping the extortionate tuition fee was a no brainer, really. Instead, she signed up to do a floristry course at a nearby college while working part time at a landscaping company, earning a wage by planting flower beds in rich people’s gardens.

She loved getting home at the end of the day with dirt under her nails.

Villanelle spent her spare time reading books on botany at the library, where she met numerous other female students studying their own fields. It was in these instances and the instances that followed them that Villanelle realised her teachers’ views on her social behaviour applied only to school friendships.

Villanelle soon discovered that it wasn’t just plants that she had a passion for.

She liked making more than just flowers bloom.

And so Villanelle’s time was spent between landscaping shifts, women, floristry courses, women, botany research, women _and_ sometimes men too, shopping, more women, and so on.

It was an extremely pleasant life, and it was a life full of _life_.

It was while she was winding climber vines around a wooden frame in a rooftop garden bar owned by a serious but welcoming man named Konstantin, that she was struck with a thought she should’ve had sooner.

Why was she building pergolas when she could be building a business?

——

Villanelle stares at the sky thoughtfully as she mentally checks her body for any pain.

The back of her head aches from the impact, she notes from her lying down position on the ground, but she’d kept it up instinctively so it didn’t take the full force of the fall.

Her lower back is killing her, because that _had_ taken the brunt of it when she’d slipped. Villanelle winces as she shifts her spine, but besides those aches she can’t feel any other discomfort. Not that she’d expected any; she knows how to fall safely to avoid potential injury. She’s not an idiot.

She stays on the ground for a few more moments and watches the clouds twist together, but is interrupted as a shadow falls over her face.

Eve is leaning over her, eyebrows raised and smirk in place.

“Have a nice trip?”

Eve is wearing her usual attire, Villanelle can see from this angle. Tight high-waisted black jeans plus a black leather belt, plain black t-shirt tucked into the jeans, intricate yet bold tattoo sleeve running down her left arm, and wild curly black hair creating some kind of gloriously dark halo around her head. Eve paints an intimidating figure to those who don’t know her well, but Villanelle likes to think she knows Eve a little better than most. You don’t spend 5 years as neighbours without getting to know each other at least a bit.

Villanelle looks away from Eve calmly and continues to study the clouds.

“That is a terrible joke,” she says casually, watching clouds merge into each other. “If you’re going to come and inspect your handiwork, at least have a better line prepared.”

It’s Villanelle’s turn to smirk as the smug expression slips from Eve’s face. Villanelle looks around from her prone position, and her smirk widens when she spots the yellow ‘wet floor’ sign propped against the outside of her shop door.

“Did you put that sign there to stop any of my customers falling victim to your little Vaseline puddle prank?” Villanelle chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh Eve, you continue to surprise me with how bad you are at this game.”

“No, no,” Eve starts, already getting annoyed. “You don’t get to do that. I _got_ you, you fell, and now you’re… you’re gonna have a headache all day, and that’ll be _so_ annoying for you, because-”

“Because what? Because the incessant buzzing from your place isn’t enough to have already given me a headache these past few years?”

“Look Villanelle, I've said before that if you hate the buzzing so much then you could just move. Hey, I’ll even help you pack-”

“Oh yes, you’d like me to leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, that’s why I’m offering.”

“Enough,” Villanelle barks from her position on the pavement. “I am done with this conversation, so if you are not going to help me up, then-”

“Okay, bye!”

Eve’s smug voice accompanies her disappearing from Villanelle’s view, but another voice breaks the quiet almost immediately.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

Villanelle pushes herself up onto her elbows to stare down the path in the direction of the voice.

“Oh, hi Maria.” Villanelle raises one hand in a small wave, as one of the ladies from the local bakery comes rushing towards them.

“Hi Maria!”

Villanelle smirks at Eve’s hopeful voice. Although she can’t see the woman behind her, she knows Eve has just tucked her hair behind her ear, probably with a nervous smile in place.

“Hey Eve,” the small strawberry blonde woman says quickly, before bending down over Villanelle. “Villanelle, what happened? Are you okay?”

And really, this was all working out so perfectly.

“Oh, Maria, please, I am fine. I just slipped.” She flashes her most charming smile up at the young woman. “Please do not worry. My old pal Eve here was just making fun of me falling, you know how friends are.”

“What? Eve, she could’ve really hurt herself.”

Villanelle hears Eve start to sputter.

“No, no I wasn’t, I was just about to help her up-”

“Really? Because it looked like you were walking away. That’s not very kind, Eve, poor Villanelle.”

Villanelle herself is trying to contain the glee she feels at hearing the disappointment in Maria’s voice aimed at the woman who is so clearly crushing on her.

Maria’s hand reaches out and she gently pulls Villanelle to her feet, who grimaces again at the ache in her lower back.

Honestly, Eve deserves this for the bruising Villanelle will have to deal with for the next week alone.

“Thank you Maria, you’re too sweet.” Villanelle says, smiling at her. “Just like your beautiful cakes.”

“Oh, stop it.” Maria blushes, slapping Villanelle on the arm softly.

“She’s right, your cakes are beautiful Maria.”

Villanelle can barely hold back the eye roll at Eve’s attempt at inserting herself back into the conversation.

“Thanks.” Maria tells Eve quickly, before turning back fully to Villanelle. “Come on V, you can have a red velvet cupcake on the house, I know that’ll make you feel better.”

Villanelle clutches her heart dramatically.

“Gosh, you really are lovely, Maria.”

As she starts to follow Maria down the pavement to the bakery, she turns to throw Eve a smirking grin over her shoulder.

The scowl and angry half-shriek of frustration that come from Eve are far more delicious than any red velvet cupcake.

——

Later that day, Villanelle locks the front door from the inside and flicks the switch that controls her neon ‘Garden of Eden’ sign to off. She casts one last sweeping glance around the shop space at her plants before heading through to the back room where she usually prepares the bouquets and wreaths, checking that she’s put her tools away before flicking the light off in there too.

There’s only one room left on the ground floor, and as she heads into it she feels herself start to slip into home mode. Her kitchen is spacious and bright, also bursting with plants, and Villanelle heads over to the fridge to see what she can make for dinner.

After pulling out chicken and veg, she turns on her radio and hums along to whatever pop song is filtering out of the speakers, hip checking drawers closed as she grabs tools to prepare her dinner.

She spots a light come on in the window of the neighbouring building as she sits down to eat.

Their buildings are mirror images of each other, and she knows that Eve’s kitchen is at the back of her house too. Eve must’ve just finished up for the day, because she suddenly appears at the window, talking animatedly on the phone while looking at something on her kitchen counter.

Villanelle studies Eve while she chats, chewing on her chicken stir fry thoughtfully as she watches her end the call and ruffle her hair tiredly. She catches a glimpse of the underside of Eve’s tattoo sleeve, sees the lines and shapes there that she knows make up a death’s-head hawkmoth, and she wonders not for the first time is Eve is a movie fan, and if her tattoo is an homage to Silence of the Lambs.

Villanelle loves that movie.

Eve moves away from the window then and doesn’t reappear for a while, only passing again when Villanelle has finished eating and is flicking through her phone before she starts the dishes. She hears the familiar rumble of a bike engine outside and rolls her eyes. This is the second time this week Eve has ordered takeout, and it’s only Thursday. She really needs to learn how to cook.

It’s around 9pm when Villanelle heads upstairs to her living room, pausing only to grab a well worn copy of The Botany of Desire from her bookshelf before heading into her bedroom. Plants fill this space too, but only her absolute favourites get pride of place in this room.

In the corner stands a tall Areca palm, a housewarming gift from Konstantin when she’d finally secured this building for her own. Her friendship with Konstantin was a good one, all starting from their chats as she built his rooftop garden for him. His bar was just down the road from here, so she saw him regularly, keeping him up to date with her rivalry with Eve which never failed to make him laugh.

A slightly smaller rubber plant stands next to the Areca palm, its large flat leaves shining in the glow from the floor lamp nearby. It was the first rubber plant she’d bought to sell in her shop, and for some reason she was never able to part with it.

The pot of flowering maple she’d found at a car boot sale sits on her windowsill, almost smothering the peace lilies sent by her parents. Villanelle moves to her window to separate the two, giving the lilies space to breathe, before something across the alleyway separating hers and Eve’s homes catches her eye.

It’s a plant.

A plant is sat on Eve’s windowsill, gently swaying in the breeze coming from the open window.

Normally this wouldn’t be a strange thing to see, but ever since this feud started between Eve and herself, the reason for which she will _never_ talk about, Eve has done everything in her power to give off the impression that she hates plants.

It’s stupid, and immature, and Villanelle is still bothered by it.

But whatever. There’s a plant there, in a little ceramic blue pot, and it looks like a… Chinese money plant? A young one, Villanelle thinks. Recently watered too, if the droplets on the leaves catching the light are anything to go by.

Eve suddenly appears at the window and spots Villanelle, who narrows her eyes before nodding curiously at the small plant. Eve smiles innocently and touches one of the leaves delicately.

Eve is dressed for lounging, in a grey raglan tee and her hair up in a loose bun, curls spilling out and framing her face around the trendy reading glasses perched over her eyes.

She’s still stroking one of the leaves with an almost caring expression on her face when Villanelle realises what’s about to happen.

Because, obviously. She’s an idiot for not realising it sooner.

Eve looks up with a dangerous smirk, and Villanelle doesn’t even get a chance to shout ‘stop’ before Eve casually bats the back of her hand into the pot, sending it tumbling, plant and all, down from the second floor window and crashing to the alleyway pavement below.

Villanelle stares down at the mess of soil and leaves, her hands pressed against the glass, almost feeling the pain of the poor innocent plant, before looking back up with a thunderous glare at Eve.

Eve, who mouths ‘oops’ at Villanelle through her smirk, before dropping her blinds and turning out her light.

Villanelle turns furiously on her heels and stomps back through to her living room, grabbing her laptop and immediately loading up the page for her plant wholesaler.

A few clicks later and Villanelle can breathe again.

Lets see how Eve likes 35 Chinese money plants on her doorstep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I google what plants grow wild in Russia with the ability to kill rabbits? Yes, yes I did.


	3. Stick Figures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! And thanks as always to Cat, who puts up with me emailing her new chapters to feed back on almost every night. You da veggie bae. x

Despite what she’s lead Villanelle to believe, Eve doesn’t actually hate plants.

She loves going for runs through the park, she loves going on mini breaks to the Norfolk coast during summer, she loves driving out to Epping forest and drawing in the shade of the trees.

But Villanelle can’t know any of that.

Not when Eve’s ‘hatred’ of plants winds the other woman up so wonderfully.

She’d felt bad about the money plant stunt for a moment, before conjuring the image of Villanelle grinning at her while trailing behind cute Maria from the bakery. Once she got that picture back in her head, it really was very easy to knock the little plant to its untimely death.

She’s not a psychopath. She just has a really shitty neighbour.

Anyway.

Eve is thinking about plants today as she sits in her corner of the studio, sketching out a design featuring a haunting woodland scape. She’s humming along to whatever hip hop track is playing courtesy of Elena, when she’s interrupted from her drawing by the door banging open revealing a familiar figure.

“Code V, Eve! Code V!”

Eve rolls her eyes.

“Yes, thank you Hugo, I can see that.” Eve says over the sound of Kenny’s tattoo gun. “I’m sitting right here.”

Hugo shrugs and goes back to arranging the piercing station ready for walk-ins like Villanelle isn’t just standing in their doorway.

“Hello, sinners.”

“Don’t call us that.” Eve says sharply. “What do you want?”

“What? I can’t stop by and see my favourite neighbours?” Villanelle spreads her arms out to gesture around the room. “You, and Elena, and the quiet maths guy, and the one with the loud voice and bad shirts?”

“Hey.” Hugo pipes up indignantly.

Villanelle flaps a hand at him.

“Whatever. Can’t a neighbour stop by and say hello?”

“No,” Eve replies blankly. “Go away.”

“You’re so mean, Eve. Is it because I clogged your gutter drain with flower stems again?”

“You _what_?”

Villanelle ignores her and claps her hands together once as if that solves it, while Eve groans tiredly and buries her face in her hands. “Anyway, I am here to talk to you.”

“Well, I’m busy.” Eve says, turning back to her iPad to continue her sketch. “So if you’ll excuse me-”

“Not you, Eve.”

_Oh_.

“Oh.”

Eve looks back up at Villanelle as the blonde starts walking towards Elena, a bounce in her step as she approaches Eve’s colour tattoo expert. Elena has been watching the scene with amusement, as usual, but even she looks a little bewildered as Villanelle comes to a stop in front of her.

“I saw on your Instagram story last night that you’re a Lizzo fan.”

Elena smiles at her uncertainly from her chair, fingers pausing in their fiddling of her tattoo gun.

“Uh, yeah, I am.” Elena replies.

And it’s like Villanelle has been pricked with a pin, the way she suddenly lets all her air out in an excited whoosh of breath.

“Oh my god, I love her so much, isn’t she amazing?”

“Um, try _incredible_?”

Eve watches as the two young women start gushing about this Lizzo person with an uneasy feeling in her chest. Villanelle sure was upping her feud game if she was now purposefully chatting with Eve’s own friends just to rile her up.

Villanelle has perched gently on Elena’s tattoo bed and is gesturing wildly with her hands, saying something about a flute and thighs and Elena is nodding enthusiastically, laughing along and giving back just as much energy as Villanelle is giving her.

Eve reluctantly turns back to her iPad, trying to block the two excited women from her mind, and then she realises; Villanelle is doing this to get at her.

Villanelle is taking the attention off of Eve to mess with her, to unsettle her, to lead her into a false sense of security, and then she’ll strike. It makes total sense. Eve is almost impressed.

It’s a little sad that Elena is getting roped into it, but she’s an adult, she’ll be fine once she’s been dropped after Villanelle sees that it’s not affecting Eve.

It’s only a matter of time.

——

Two weeks later, Elena is slipping quietly into the studio.

“You’re 15 minutes late, Elena.”

“You know, any other tattoo studio wouldn’t be all that bothered by a late artist, as long as they weren’t late for an appointment.”

Eve flicks her gaze from her ink pots to Elena, putting on her best ‘scary Eve’ expression.

“This isn’t _any other tattoo studio_ , though, is it.”

Elena looks as though she’s about to argue before clearly deciding against it, flashing Eve an apologetic smile.

“Sorry boss.”

“It’s fine.” Eve replies, going back to arranging her ink pots for her first session. “How come you were late, anyway?”

“Oh uh, just, traffic, y’know… Wednesday morning rush.”

Eve fixes Elena with a suspicious gaze.

“You live two streets away.”

Elena purses her lips guiltily.

“Um… foot traffic?”

But before Eve can say anything to that, the studio door is swinging open loudly and Villanelle is leaning through.

Eve’s hackles immediately go up, ready to deliver a sarcastic remark at the sudden appearance of her neighbour, when she realises Villanelle is waving something at Elena and ignoring Eve completely.

“Hey idiot, you managed to put your wallet in _my_ bag.” She says fondly, getting ready to throw Elena the wallet. “You’re really not a morning person.”

Elena catches the wallet as it flies across the studio, smiling gratefully at Villanelle.

“Shit, thanks, sorry.” Elena says, shaking her head. “Coffee again on Friday?”

“Sure.” Villanelle nods. “We can talk about those Lizzo tickets for November.”

Eve stares at the back of Elena’s head as she bids Villanelle goodbye with a wave, who steps out the door without even a word to Eve. Not that Eve wanted a word, anyway.

She focuses her energy on Elena instead, who is here and in front of her and easier to understand, instead of dwelling on why Villanelle isn’t talking to her, if it’s part of her plan to get at Eve, or if maybe the feud is over, or if-

Snap out of it, Eve.

“So. Chummy coffee mornings, huh?”

Elena turns around to face Eve, wary expression already in place as she twists her bag strap in her hands.

“Listen, Eve, I know it may be hard to believe, but Villanelle is actually pretty decent-”

Eve interrupts her with a scoff of disgust, but Elena pushes on.

“She’s pretty decent and also really fucking funny, and we just get on, y’know? We’re mates. We hang out and get coffee and listen to music. She’s my fr-”

“Don’t say it.” Eve snaps, and she knows she sounds like a dramatic teenager, she _knows_ she does, but this just feels like some sort of _betrayal_ , like her _trust_ has been broken, like-

“Eve, stop it.” Elena says, planting a hand on her hip and settling Eve with a firm look. “You are my boss, and you are my friend, but you do not have a say in who else I’m friends with, despite whatever silly rivalries may be happening between said friends.”

And fuck, Eve can definitely feel a sulk coming on for the first time in 20 years while being stared down. She folds her arms and looks away from Elena, trying to hide her moody expression.

“Fine.” mumbles Eve. “But she’s plotting something, I can feel it.”

“Maybe.” Elena replies before moving into her own corner of the studio. “But if she is, I don’t know anything about it. We don’t talk about you.”

And for some stupid reason, that makes her moodier than the last five minutes put together.

——

Eve is still fully convinced that Villanelle’s sudden friendship with Elena is a way of getting at her.

She just hasn’t figured out how, yet.

And she doesn’t mean it in a bad way against Elena, god no, Elena is great and anyone would be lucky to have her as a friend.

It’s just that Villanelle’s attention for the past five years has been on her, and now it’s… not.

And there’s something up with that, right? There has to be.

She wouldn’t just switch her attention from Eve to Elena overnight for no reason, there’s no sense in it. Why would she just suddenly stop targeting Eve?

Unless…

Unless Elena is Villanelle’s new target.

Eve grabs her phone from the coffee table and straightens up on her sofa, flicking through quickly and finding Elena’s text thread.

Eve: ELENA

_Elena: Who’s died??_

Eve: What?

_Elena: If you’re texting me at a quarter to midnight in all caps it better be because a famous person has died_

_Elena: and not something about work or whatever_

_Elena: if it’s about work I’m leaving you on read_

Eve: I’m your boss, you can’t ‘leave me on read’

Eve: What does that even mean?

Eve: Elena?

Eve: Elena it’s not about work.

_Elena: okay. So who died_

Eve: Jesus, no one died, I’m sorry if that disappoints you.

_Elena: I mean kinda_

Eve: I’m worried about something. And I need you to hear me out.

_Elena: oh for fuck’s sake Eve is this about V again?_

Eve: V? You call her ‘V’ now? Wow. It’s been 2 weeks.

_Elena: yes Eve, because mates give each other nicknames_

_Elena: and also Villanelle is a super long name to keep typing out_

Eve: Okay fine. And yes, it is about ‘V’ again.

Eve: BUT BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING

Eve: I just want to get my thoughts out there. Okay?

_Elena: oh christ_

Eve: First of all, I think it’s weird that she all of a sudden wants to be best friends with you.

_Elena: excuse me?_

Eve: No no wait. I’m worried she’s using you, or moving on to target you. I think it’s weird because there was no like… in between? It wasn’t a friendship moving into a best friendship. It was zero to ‘I heart Lizzie’ real fast.

_Elena: Lizzo._

Eve: What?

_Elena: good lord never mind carry on_

Eve: Okay. So that’s the first thing. The second thing is she hasn’t said a word to me in over a week. Which is weird? Because all she usually does is say words to me to make me mad. She loves doing that.

Eve: Why stop now?

_Elena: because she remembered neither of you are 13 years old?_

Eve: Elena, please, I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.

_Elena: keep trying_

Eve: THIRDLY. Thirdly, she’s not pranked me for two weeks. Not since the blocked gutter. That’s a record for us.

Eve: Her* a record for her.

Eve: And it’s just weird that these things have all fallen at the same time, you know?

_Elena: so let me get this straight._

_Elena: becoming friends with Elena + not bothering Eve + stopping the ridiculous rivalry = Villanelle is planning on destroying you with a new friendship as her weapon?_

_Elena: is that about the jist of it?_

Eve: Yes! That’s exactly it, do you see now??

_Elena: you’re insane and I’m going to bed, love you x_

Eve stares blankly at her phone for a few moments longer, before scrolling back through their messages to see if she really did sound insane.

Nope, totally logical.

Eve sighs in frustration before tossing her phone back on the table. This was stupid. And unfair. She _knows_ Villanelle is up to something.

The others just don’t seem to get it. For five years, Villanelle has been focussed on her. She’s been finding ways to make _Eve_ annoyed, to make _Eve_ retaliate, to make _Eve_ stoop to childish levels she never thought she’d be stooping to at 40.

The only time there’d ever been anything close to a friendship between herself and Villanelle was back when-

Anyway.

Maybe Eve should stop trying to work out what’s going on. Maybe the best course of action here would be to just let it play out. Let it happen. Because eventually Villanelle will slip up, or launch her attack, or whatever, and Eve will just have to be ready to give back as good as she gets. Maybe she should start planning revenge now, actually.

And if Villanelle really was just interested in being friends with Elena, then great, cool! Awesome! Finally, y’know? Finally moving on from torturing Eve to live a normal adult life, and letting Eve get on with hers. That’s exactly what Eve wants. Exactly.

_Fuck_.

She drops her head against the sofa arm with a groan before grabbing the blanket from the cushions, curling it around herself like a cocoon. Maybe she’ll emerge from it with new wings, and new clarity on this whole confusing situation.

——

Distracted from her drawing, Eve glances around the studio at what the others are up to.

Kenny is drawing too, headphones on, his digital drawing pad hooked up to his laptop as he sketches out patterns without needing any kind of ruler tool.

Hugo is with a client, a little girl getting her ears pierced with her mum stood nervously behind them, the promise of a glittery ‘I’m brave _and_ cool’ sticker sparkling from his side table.

Elena’s station is empty, having taken the morning off, but Eve is expecting her any minute.

She imagines, not at all bitterly, that Elena is probably having coffee with Villanelle. It’s been three weeks since the start of their friendship and Eve is starting to realise that maybe, _maybe_ , it is just that. A friendship. And that maybe, _maybe_ , Villanelle has decided that their feud has run its course and she has decided to drop it.

Good.

Eve shakes her head a little to clear her thoughts, then turns back to her iPad to finish her drawing.

But why won’t Villanelle talk to her? It’s been nearly two weeks. Granted, Eve hasn’t said a word to her either, but surely Villanelle would say something to her if she’s decided to let go of their rivalry?

Or maybe she’s waiting for Eve to say something first? That could be it. Yeah, maybe Villanelle was waiting for Eve. Maybe if Eve bit the bullet and apologised first, Villanelle would follow, and they could become civil neighbours who occasionally say hello to each other in passing, a smile on both of their faces.

That sounds… fine.

She won’t let her mind even get _close_ to the vicinity of the word ‘boring’.

She is interrupted from pretending to concentrate on her work by the door opening, bringing with it the sound of laughter from Elena and Villanelle. Eve looks up to see them saying goodbye to each other, Elena with a coffee in her hand and Villanelle with two.

Eve opens her mouth to greet Elena, but stops at the sight of Villanelle walking directly towards her.

She narrows her eyes slightly as she looks up at Villanelle’s approaching figure.

“Villanelle.” she says tersely when the woman comes to a stop.

“Eve.” Villanelle replies with a nod, voice strained.

Eve doesn’t know what to say, but it looks as though Villanelle is building up to something, so she stays quiet while the younger woman takes a steadying breath.

“I brought you this.”

Villanelle holds out the coffee cup.

“Mocha with oat milk. No cream. Extra chocolate sprinkles.”

Eve stares at the proffered cup, steam curling from the cut out hole in the lid. She glances at Elena, who is watching the scene with a mix of interest and amusement, before looking back to Villanelle and the cup still in her hand.

When did the room get so quiet?

Eve takes the cup.

“Uh… thank you, Villanelle.” Eve says stiltedly. “This is, um… very sweet of you.”

Villanelle nods, and the corners of her lips curl up into a small smile.

“Just a little something to end the period of no talking.” Villanelle says, shrugging a little before taking a quick sip of her own drink. “So… yes.”

“Thank you.” Eve says again, quietly, sincerely.

And then it looks like Villanelle’s smile drops for a millisecond, but quick as a flash it’s back and bigger and she starts backing away. She nods once more at Eve, then turns to wave at Elena with a grin and a ‘bye’, before pushing her way out of the studio.

“Well.” says Hugo, he and his clients staring at her with wide eyes.

“Well.” says Elena, looking thoroughly amused.

“Well.” says Kenny, who Eve hadn’t even realised was paying any sort of attention to any of them.

“Well.” Eve agrees, peering down at her coffee-come-peace offering. The steam rising from the lid smells delicious, the perfect blend of coffee and chocolate, and she smiles to herself before taking a sip.

The sip ends up sprayed across the studio, splashing her workstation and the floor with deep brown drops of coffee.

Or hot, mocha flavoured salt water, might be a better way to describe it.

Eve is gagging and scrubbing at her tongue with some kitchen roll when the sound of laughter makes her look away from the mess and up at the door.

Villanelle is standing there in the window, clutching her chest while laughing.

“Sorry you’re still so salty, Eve!” she yells through the glass, before making the devil horns symbol with her fingers and opening her mouth wide to waggle her tongue. Then she stalks off, still laughing, as Eve tries to take stock of the situation.

She glances icily at Elena, who is looking back with a guilty expression.

“Okay,” Elena says quietly, breaking the silence. “I will admit that was a bit childish-”

Eve has slammed her cup into the bin and stormed into her office before Elena can even finish her sentence.

The night finds Eve sat on her bed, hunched over a notebook. She’s scribbling furiously, and if anyone asked if she was drawing, she’d say yes.

The fact that that would be a lie because she’s actually writing up revenge plans is completely irrelevant.

Her bedroom is cosy, with art prints on all the walls and mementos stuffed on the shelves. She’s surrounded by a pile of pillows and blankets as she quietly seethes, mind wandering too fast for her pen to keep up, and before she knows it she’s drawn Villanelle’s full profile in biro without any real excuse for why.

And god, the fact that Eve has the details of her face down to a tee is just ridiculous. How did she even manage-

Whatever. She has a photographic memory. It’s... whatever.

She rips out that page and goes to toss it in the bin when her eyes catch on something outside.

It’s Villanelle, walking around her own bedroom, disappearing in and out of view as she passes the window.

Eve finds herself studying Villanelle, watching the way she tucks her hair behind her ear as it slips forward every time she bends over. She must be putting laundry away, or maybe watering her plants. She’s wearing light, loose clothes now, a baggy sweater that still looks worth more than any of Eve’s clothes, plus a pair of checkered pyjama shorts in deep red.

She looks so… soft.

Eve’s seen her looking soft before, obviously. You don’t have a straight view into someone else’s bedroom for five years without seeing them in their loungewear. In fact, Eve has seen her in all states of dress, from fancy as shit to stark naked, but the few times Villanelle had been naked had been blatant purposeful attempts to wind Eve the fuck up.

Because Villanelle hadn’t been alone those times, and Eve is pretty damn certain Villanelle left her window open on purpose, just so Eve could be subjected to the unnecessarily loud moans and groans of Villanelle’s late night conquests.

Eve’s learnt to keep headphones on her bedside table, nowadays.

But anyway.

Tonight Villanelle is just soft. Face clean, hair down, calm expression in place.

Until she looks up and sees Eve staring at her.

Villanelle pauses for a moment as Eve internally struggles on what the hell to do now she’s been caught watching, but then Villanelle is frowning a little and holding up a finger indicating Eve should wait, before disappearing out of the room.

Eve crawls across her bed, closer to the window, curious. What is Villanelle planning? Her window is closed, so Villanelle can’t chuck seeds through it like she did when she last left it open, so whatever she was planning would be a visual thing.

Eve hopes to god Villanelle doesn’t reappear naked.

That would be, just… not what she needs, right now. While she’s midway through planning revenge. That would ruin her flow. Her revenge flow. Her-

Eve realises she’s still got the torn out sketch of Villanelle clutched in her hand, and she scoffs at herself. _Some revenge plan_. She screws up the drawing and chucks it on the floor.

And then Villanelle’s back at the window, and she’s got a pad of paper in her hands and is drawing something. When she holds it up, it’s a very basic sketch of a coffee cup and what Eve can only assume is a curly haired stick figure version of herself with a frowning face.

Eve wonders if her glare could shatter the glass.

Villanelle nods at Eve’s reaction, brow still furrowed, and holds her finger up again to get Eve to wait. She tears that page out and starts scribbling again, and Eve thinks that maybe she can see the corner of a pink tongue sticking out between Villanelle’s lips in concentration.

Eve focuses her attention away from it.

Villanelle holds the pad up again and this time it’s a stick figure of Villanelle, if the long straight lines of hair are anything to go by. Stick Villanelle has a wavy line for a mouth, like she’s confused or guilty or some other complex wiggly mouthed emotion, and then the real Villanelle points at the page and then at herself.

Eve rolls her eyes at the sub-standard Pictionary game happening before her and nods, hoping Villanelle will understand that yes, Eve can see that that is meant to be Villanelle feeling… well, something.

Villanelle again tears the page out, and this time she pauses before starting to draw. Her brow is furrowed more this time around, and judging by the slight jiggling movement Eve can see, Villanelle is bouncing her leg about. She looks like she’s struggling with something or against something, staring at the pad like its offending her, before she ends the stare with a roll of her eyes.

She starts to scribble again, quicker and more fluid this time, and when she holds the pad back up, Eve thinks that maybe she’s seeing things.

‘ _Sorry baby’_

Villanelle’s handwriting is cursive, and Eve thinks it looks similar to the neon Garden of Eden sign, the same swooping lines and curved shapes. And-

And she’s saying sorry.

She’s saying sorry?

Eve must’ve been sat there for longer than she realised because Villanelle is dropping the pad slightly, staring at Eve hard through their windows, and Eve can see the battle playing out over Villanelle’s features. She can see that Villanelle is struggling with apologising, who for whatever reason felt that she _should_ apologise.

Eve is still just sat there, looking at Villanelle, trying to wrap her head around this weird… shift. They’ve never done this before, never said sorry. Not even when-

Eve catches Villanelle’s eyes then, and lifts her own pad to show that she’s going to write back. Villanelle looks relieved for a moment before schooling her features and nodding once.

Eve stares down at her pad of paper and flips to a clean page before twirling her pen nervously in her fingers. What should she write? Was this the moment? Was this when she too would apologise?

She tries to picture, for the second time that day, an existence where she and Villanelle are civil towards each other. Maybe they’d smile in greeting whenever Villanelle came in to see Elena. Maybe they’d say a brief ‘hello’ when they pass each other to and from their bins. Maybe they’d share short, pleasant small talk while both waiting in line at the bakery.

Maybe that’s how things would be between Villanelle and Eve if they quit fighting each other.

Which was better? Peaceful, pleasant civility where everyone is happy? Or intense, infuriating feuding where their time not working is spent figuring out ways to wind each other up?

Eve puts her pen to paper, letting a beautifully illustrative font take form in the ink, the lettering shapely and delicate and somewhat floral.

She climbs off the bed and takes the single step over to the window, where she looks up to see Villanelle waiting patiently, almost excitedly, for Eve’s response.

_Civility, or feuding?_

And then Eve allows herself to be honest, for just a second.

_Boredom, or excitement?_

She holds up her pad.

She sees her swirling ‘fuck you’ lettering reflected back at her in the glass of Villanelle’s window.

Villanelle, who is staring at Eve’s pad with an unreadable expression.

Who glances up to Eve’s face, surely recognising the eyebrow Eve has raised in challenge.

And Eve swears she sees Villanelle smile a small, pleased smirk, before disappearing completely from Eve’s view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we’re still in the feuding stages, but I like a bit of build up xo
> 
> Ps I’m going to see Lizzo in November and I am crap my pants excited


	4. Fuzzy Looking Socks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love soup and softness, hopefully you do too.

Villanelle did actually feel bad about the coffee stunt, but she had to do something to end the weird two weeks of… radio silence, that had been going on between herself and Eve.

She knows it’s her own fault, if fault is what you can call it.

But she’d gotten distracted becoming friends with Elena, who turns out is really cool and exactly Villanelle’s kind of person, so yes, prank planning had slipped her mind a little.

She hadn’t even realised that she and Eve hadn’t said a word to each other for almost a fortnight until Elena mentioned Eve, and it was like the whole thing came back to her at once.

And as soon as Villanelle noticed the silence, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, which was infuriating because she had other very important things to think about. But for whatever reason, the silence was loud in Villanelle’s brain, so she started coming up with something big and dramatic to reintroduce the feud.

Talking to Eve to annoy her was a lot more fun than not talking to her at all.

And the sign thing hadn’t gone the way she had expected, but she was pretty pleased with the outcome.

She really did want to apologise even though it physically pained her to do so, and the way it turned out? She was okay with it. It seemed Eve actually wanted to continue their game, and Villanelle was more than happy to keep playing. She even felt a little more respect for Eve, more of a kinship now that she knew they were both on the same page.

Eve had retaliated to the salted coffee by signing Villanelle up to two dozen catalogue companies, judging by the huge pile of ridiculous mail she found on her doormat a couple days later. In the privacy of her kitchen, Villanelle had smiled to herself while dropping them all in the recycling.

She isn’t smiling now though, as she lays in bed, hands pressed tightly over her ears and almost growling in anger because for the _third night in a row_ she is still awake at 2am.

She takes a deep breath before slowly removing her hands, ears immediately on alert for the noise, but seconds pass and the night is quiet and she breathes out a sigh, tired eyes already slipping closed because peace, finally, peace-

The rough coughing starts up again just as Villanelle starts to drift off.

Her frustrated groan turns into an angry shriek that she muffles into her pillow.

Three days of this. Three days of Eve coughing her lungs up at all hours of the night, waking Villanelle up and keeping her awake, having literally zero compassion for the people around her trying to sleep, and Villanelle is done. She can’t. She’s. No.

Villanelle doesn’t operate well on less than 8 hours sleep a night.

The spluttering cough trails off once again, and Villanelle thinks she hears a loud and miserable groan follow, almost lost through the obstacles of both of their single glazed windows.

That miserable groan does something weird to Villanelle’s chest. Eve just sounds so… sad. Turns out Villanelle doesn’t like how Eve sounds when she’s sad.

It’s… sad isn’t a helpful emotion when it comes to exciting neighbourly feuds, that’s all.

Villanelle grabs her a pillow and her duvet and drags them through to her living room, dropping them to her sofa and curling on top of them tiredly, too long to stretch out properly on her cosy loveseat couch.

She decides that tomorrow she’ll do something about the coughing. She’ll do something to stop the spluttering and hacking and pitiful little whines.

She’ll do something to stop Eve sounding so sad.

——

“Sinners, good morning.”

Villanelle has performed her usual entrance into Original Sin, which is basically just swinging open the door hard enough to make it bang against the wall, making everyone inside jump.

“Hey, V.”

“Hi Elena,” Villanelle replies with a smile bordering on strained due to exhaustion. “Where is she?”

“She’s not working today, she kept coughing on her clients.” The guy with the hair pipes up, watching her suspiciously. “Can we take a message?”

She glares at his sarcastic tone before glancing to the other guy, the quiet one who’s good at straight lines, who’s sat avoiding her stare like she’s Medusa. She nods, pleased, then turns back to Elena.

“I need to talk to her.”

“Sorry babe, she’s in no condition to talk to anyone,” Elena replies, casting a sympathetic glance upwards. “Besides, I’m not sure you’re at the top of her list for potential visits.”

“She will be happy to see me,” Villanelle says confidentially, tossing her coat in the direction of Elena’s corner of the studio and striding towards the back room. “I am assuming I can just walk straight up?”

Elena’s protest falls behind Villanelle as she strolls into Eve’s office space and kitchen, and she rounds the corner to where she knows the staircase will be.

Time to go see Eve.

It’s fairly dark upstairs, with all the curtains drawn in the rooms Villanelle glances into. Maybe Eve has sore eyes. She looks into the living room, takes in Eve’s style in art, in books, in cushion covers and rugs, before settling on a shelving unit in the corner, rammed full of DVDs.

So Eve _is_ a movie person. Good. Movies are fantastic.

Villanelle smiles as she gives Eve more credit in her mind.

She comes to a stop outside of a door that’s slightly ajar, light streaming out of it into the unlit hallway. She can hear sniffles and the sound of music playing quietly, and she takes a moment to just breathe in the quiet of it all.

Then she gently knocks.

“Um… hello?”

Eve’s voice makes Villanelle instantly pout. She sounds so scratchy, so rough and deep and unwell, and Villanelle can’t help but feel sorry for her. Sick people are just so… weak. Villanelle always gets this intense need to protect someone when they sound that vulnerable, but she shakes the thought away and pushes the door open the tiniest bit more.

“Do not be mad.”

“Oh Jesus,” Eve’s miserable voice comes through the door. “How- I’m going to kill Elena.”

Villanelle smiles a little despite herself.

“Yes, I am sure you are capable of that right now.”

Eve’s unhappy groan is followed by the rustling of sheets.

“Why are you here? This is trespassing. I could press charges.”

“Yes yes,” Villanelle rolls her eyes. “And I’m sure they will believe you after the last few times you tried that.”

It’s true; Eve had called the police once or twice in their first few weeks of feuding, thinking that they’d swoop in and rescue her from the ‘asshole florist next door’, but all it had resulted in was the police thinking Eve was a dramatic artist type with a love of attention, getting huffy at her neighbour _accidentally_ spilling compost over her doorstep.

She listens to Eve’s grumble then pushes on.

“Anyway, I am here because you are awful and keeping me awake, and I want to see if you will die sometime soon,” Villanelle nudges the door open a little more. “finally leaving me with some peace and quiet.”

Eve scoffs, and Villanelle is pleased to hear a defeated sound follow it.

“Jesus, fine, come in.” Eve mumbles. “But don’t- I’m not looking my best, okay? So, just… don’t be an ass.”

Villanelle pauses in pushing the door fully, confused at why Eve would care about Villanelle seeing her less put together than usual, before brushing the thought away and opening the door to reveal Eve’s bedroom.

Eve is on the bed, bundled in her duvet, comforter pulled up to her nose which looks red raw underneath pink and bleary eyes, her hair a dark, wild mess on her pillows, and scrunched tissues strewn around her like bulbous white flowers.

“Gross…” Villanelle breathes.

“Oh, fuck you.”

Eve tries to roll over and face away from Villanelle but seems to have wrapped herself up too tightly, struggling to even get on her back and groaning frustratedly at Villanelle’s amused smirk.

“Whatever, look, here I am.” Eve closes her eyes tightly, brows furrowed. “Almost dead, certainly looking close to it anyway. So now you can just… go back to Eden and, I don’t know, tell your Venus fly traps that you’ll be feeding me to them soon, or whatever.”

Villanelle wishes she didn’t find the flu induced rambling cute, but she can’t help but smile at this pitiful lump of blankets before her.

“That would take a while.” Villanelle slowly steps inside the room. “Botanist Barry Rice tested out whether Venus fly traps could digest human flesh by feeding it some of his skin after it fell off during a bout of athlete’s foot. It took over a week to digest one gram.”

Eve pulls the blankets down and Villanelle sees the twist of her frown.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yes,” Villanelle says dreamily. “Plants are amazing.”

Eve shakes her head and pulls a hand out from under the duvet to rub at her forehead. It doesn’t help clear the sheen of sweat that coats it. Villanelle takes another step towards the bed.

“It smells like breath in here.”

“Yeah well I’ve barely left the room for four days, so.”

Villanelle hums as she takes another step closer to the bed, eyeing the tissues with a wrinkled nose.

“Okay, I have an idea, Eve.”

Eve pushes herself up onto her elbow, narrowing her eyes at Villanelle and muffling a cough into her blanket.

“No, you may not smother me with a pillow.”

Villanelle has reached the bed now and sits down gingerly, pulling her sleeve over hand hand to brush a wadded tissue to the floor.

“Tempting as that is, I do not plan on killing you yet.”

Eve’s shocked splutter turns into a coughing fit, which Villanelle leans away from with a grimace.

“ _Yet_?”

“Anyway,” she presses on. “I have decided to help you get better.”

Eve’s death threat shock has subsided to be replaced with a different kind of shock, and the whiplash on her face makes Villanelle smile.

“You what?”

“I want to help, Eve.” Villanelle sighs. “I am exhausted and your coughing is ruining my beauty sleep, which I do not need but like all the same.”

Eve rolls her eyes.

“God, for a second I thought you were doing this for me. How silly.”

Villanelle doesn’t let the argument on the tip of her tongue out, ready to defend herself against Eve’s sarcastic tone, because who is Eve to say Villanelle isn’t doing this for her? Maybe she’s doing it because she wants Eve to feel better, maybe she’s doing it because she misses their weird prank war?

Maybe she’s doing it because hearing Eve’s sad voice does something funny to her chest?

Maybe.

Villanelle stands up and clears her throat.

“Nope, this is about me, as everything should be.” She brushes the back of her jeans with her hands, trying to rid herself of any tag along germs. “Where is your trash?”

“There’s a bin under the desk in the living room.”

Villanelle heads into the room and over to the desk, quickly glancing over the half finished drawings that cover the surface. Eve really is talented. There’s one that looks like twisted vines that seems to be intended to wrap around someone’s arm, and Villanelle lifts her own, looking over her forearm and picturing Eve concentrating, drilling the design painfully into her skin.

She ignores the pleasant shudder that tries to take her.

Back in Eve’s room, Villanelle starts picking up the piles of tissues, tossing them into the bin in her hand before putting it by Eve’s bed.

“Tissues go in there.” Villanelle points at the bin and gives Eve a stern look. “Just because you look gross doesn’t mean you need to act gross.”

Eve just grumbles in response, burrowing herself further under her covers. Villanelle reaches out and tugs them back down again away from her face.

“Hey!”

Villanelle ignores Eve’s protest.

“Get up and take a cool shower, you will feel better.”

Eve stares back defiantly, and seriously, have the last five years not taught Eve anything about Villanelle’s patience?

“You know I can stand here all day, Evie.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eve huffs. Finally, she shoves the mess of blankets from her and climbs weakly out of bed.

She’s wearing a loose tank top, sky blue underwear, a thick pair of fuzzy looking socks, and nothing else.

It’s not in Villanelle’s nature to avert her eyes, so she doesn’t.

Because why would she? Eve is hot. But that’s not news to anyone, surely. Plus, it makes their feuding all the more fun. Who wouldn’t want to wind up someone attractive?

Eve shuffles over to her closet and grabs some towels from it before turning back to Villanelle and running her fingers through her hair tiredly. Villanelle trails her eyes slowly over Eve, taking every inch of her in, ending on her legs before glancing back up with a smirk. Eve notices.

“What?” She mumbles, narrowing her eyes.

“You have a very nice body.”

Eve looks down at herself and seems to realise how she’s dressed for the first time.

“Shit! Don’t- don’t look.”

Villanelle chuckles, shaking her head at Eve hastily wrapping one of the towels around her waist.

“But it is true.” She says through her smile, enjoying this weird towel dance Eve is performing on her way to the door.

“It’s- I’m not- I mean-” Villanelle catches Eve rolling her eyes at herself as she pulls open the door. “Thanks.” She finishes with a mumble before leaving.

Villanelle smiles.

“You are welcome.” She says quietly to the empty room.

——

When Villanelle re-enters Eve’s apartment two hours later, this time meeting no resistance from the rest of Original Sin seeing as she’d left earlier still smiling and still alive, she immediately notices how much fresher the air is.

While Eve had been in the shower, Villanelle had made quick work of shaking out her sheets and blankets and remaking her bed, before opening up all of the windows to try and clear the stuffy air. She’d grabbed a large glass from Eve’s kitchen cupboard and placed it full of ice water on her bedside table, along with some flu meds she’d found in the bathroom cabinet. Why she didn’t already have them out was beyond Villanelle. She was finding Eve more and more difficult to understand. She quite liked it.

“Eve,” Villanelle called out while walking towards the bedroom. “Are you dressed?”

There’s no response from Eve, so Villanelle pushes the door open gently and peers in.

Eve is fast asleep, sprawled out beneath her blankets, one arm hanging over the side of her bed and face squished against her pillow.

Villanelle doesn’t bother holding back her smile.

She’ll admit, this weakened state is making her soften up to Eve a little. Not that she’ll ever let the older woman know that. But something about seeing her with her walls down is making Villanelle feel all… warm.

It’s concerning.

It’s a flicker of a feeling from five years ago, which-

Which doesn’t matter.

She walks to Eve’s bed and puts her bag on the side table, leaning over Eve slightly before reaching out to nudge at the sleeping woman’s shoulder.

“Eve,” she says quietly with another nudge. “Wakey wakey.”

Eve groans and shrugs off Villanelle’s hand, burrowing further below the blankets with a tiny murmured “No.”

“Okay, this is very cute, but I need you to wake up.” Villanelle says, still keeping her voice hushed. “I would rather you sleep through the night instead of now so that I too can sleep tonight.”

Eve cracks one eye open to stare up at Villanelle, who grins down at her.

“Hello.”

“Yeah, hi.” Eve grumbles, pushing Villanelle away from her gently. “What are you doing back here?”

“It is time to smother you.”

Eve just chuckles and rolls onto her back, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She glances to her side and spots the bag.

“What’s that?”

“That,” Villanelle says, grabbing the bag and lifting it in front of her grandly, “is soup. Vegetable soup. Made from herbs and vegetables grown by yours truly.”

Eve sits up in bed, pushing her hair away from her face.

“You… you made me soup?”

“Yes, obviously. It is the best cure for a cold. Would you like some now?”

Eve looks away from Villanelle’s face, where she’d been staring at her with wide eyes, a look on her face that Villanelle can’t quite work out. She stares down at her hands and starts to pick at a loose thread on her blanket.

“Um, yeah, please. That would be nice.”

Villanelle finds a pan in Eve’s kitchen that looks like it hasn’t seen use for months and puts it on the stove, filling it with chunky soup from her tupperware. She stirs slowly, staring into her own kitchen across the way as she mixes.

So, this is what Eve sees.

Villanelle makes a mental note to clear some of the plants from her own windowsill. They block Eve’s view.

Back upstairs with a bowl full of steaming soup in her lap, Eve hums appreciatively as she takes a mouthful.

“Oh my god, this is good.”

“Well, yes. I made it.”

Eve looks over at Villanelle with a small laugh.

“You’re something else, Villanelle.”

“Thank you.”

Eve laughs again, and Villanelle smiles.

Eve eats the rest of her soup in silence while Villanelle looks around her room from her perch on the bed, taking in the framed photos and books and art prints. All the little things that Eve likes to have in her home, her comforts and her memories.

“You need some plants in here.”

“Over my smothered dead body.”

But Eve is fighting back a smile when Villanelle smirks over at her.

——

Villanelle sleeps solidly for 8 hours that night.

She dreams of curly hair and fuzzy looking socks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fave soup is either country vegetable or potato and leek!! What is yours? (If it is tomato or that gross cold soup I had once in a French restaurant then I don’t wanna hear it!!)  
> Follow me on twitter if you wanna - @fixyfics


	5. Faux Fur Throw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp this was supposed to go up yesterday, my bad! There’s a TW for this chapter, I’ve popped it in the end notes. Nothing too nasty, just want to be safe.

“Villanelle!”

Eve burst through the door to Garden of Eden, slamming it against the wall angrily.

The sound of rustling comes from the back room, followed by Villanelle popping her head round the corner, grinning wide.

“Eve, hello! You are wearing clothes today!” She looks pointedly at Eve’s legs before stepping out fully, a funeral arrangement in her hands. “And you are alive and well. Unlike this guy.” She nods at the flowers in her hand, spelling out the name ‘Bob’.

“Ladybirds?!” Eve shouts, ignoring Villanelle’s comment and the blush rising on her own cheeks. “You wait until I’m well again and then give me a cake box full of ladybirds?!”

It’s infuriating how Villanelle is just standing there smiling, lifting one shoulder in a delicate shrug.

“It was a welcome back gift, did you not get the note?”

Eve scowls at Villanelle, her eyes not leaving the blonde’s as she reaches into her back pocket. She straightens the note out dramatically as she looks at it and clears her throat.

“‘Roses are red, veg soup is green, what’s inside this box just has to be seen. V.’”

Eve looks up from the note to find Villanelle staring at her expectantly.

“And did you see them?”

Eve groans angrily, throwing her hands out.

“Yes, I saw them! All three dozen of them! Now flying around my studio!”

“Oof,” says Villanelle, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You should have been more careful with the box, Eve.”

Eve splutters at the smirk on Villanelle’s face.

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore,” she says, exasperated. “I thought we had a-”

“You thought we had a truce because you were sick?” Villanelle interrupts her, finally walking further into the main room, dropping the flower arrangement onto the counter. “We did. But you’re not sick anymore.”

“Your ladybird prank has cost my studio money. Kenny had to go home!”

“Why?”

Eve rubs her hands tiredly over her face.

“He’s scared of ladybirds. Or something like that, I’m not entirely sure actually, he left in a hurry.”

“Coccinellidaephobia?”

“Bless you.”

Villanelle rolls her eyes.

“Coccinellidaephobia. Phobia of coccinellidae, specifically coccinella magnifica.”

Eve stares at Villanelle, not even bothering to hide her surprise, before nodding in defeat.

“Of course you know Latin.”

Villanelle smirks.

“Naturaliter etiam.”

Eve turns on her heel and storms out, Villanelle’s laughter following her.

——

And so, the month following Eve’s recovery had been much the same as before she got sick, except now with added… looks.

From Villanelle.

Whenever they saw each other, it felt like Villanelle’s stares lingered a little longer than they used to.

Her gaze would stay on Eve, sometimes dropping to her legs, causing Eve to fight off the memory of Villanelle seeing her in just her underwear, how Villanelle’s stare back then had warmed Eve unexpectedly.

She can’t help but blush lightly whenever it happens now, and Villanelle has picked up on it if the smirks are anything to go by.

Her gazes linger and Eve can almost _feel_ them heating up her skin, little pin pricks of fire as Villanelle’s gaze licks flames over her body.

It’s ridiculous and inappropriate and-

And Eve can’t stop thinking about it.

It throws her right back to five years ago when she and Villanelle first met, when Villanelle was moving her furniture into the building next door. She’d been standing outside, directing movers carrying her sofa, when Eve setting up the studio A-board while staring at the newcomer must have caught her eye.

She’d looked over at Eve, dropped her gaze and dragged it back, ending it with a smile Eve’s way before heading inside the building. Eve had then spent 20 seconds fumbling with the very simple board latch, heat in her cheeks and mind full of honey blonde hair.

Much later that day, Eve had been in her bedroom, messing with her hair in the mirror when she caught sight of movement across the alley. Villanelle was in the room opposite, watering a plant on her windowsill, staring right back at Eve with a curious glint in her gaze.

She paused in putting her hair up and smiled lightly as Villanelle studied her.

 _Wear it down_ , Villanelle had mouthed, smiling back before disappearing from view.

Eve cuts off her own thoughts on that particular subject before they go any further.

It’s in the past.

Unlike the lingering gazes and warm flushes.

_Fuck. Not again._

Eve throws herself into her designs for the rest of the day, keeping herself too busy to think.

——

Sometimes, when things appear to be going well, or normal, or as expected, life will throw you a curveball.

Why?

Because life is a dickhead like that.

Eve’s curveball comes during the night, after she spent the day forcing her mind to focus on her drawing and not on the way Villanelle has been looking at her legs and ass.

It comes when she’s deeply asleep, and starts in the form of a tapping sound that barely manages to drag her out of unconsciousness. But it does, the tapping breaks through the haze, and she sits up wearily.

It’s coming from the window.

She’s mildly aware of someone shouting. It sounds far away, like it’s leftover from her dreams, but it continues until she recognises that it’s her name.

She shakes her head to clear it, but can’t lose the drowsiness still clinging to her.

Crawling to the end of the bed, Eve looks to her window.

Villanelle is at hers. She’s throwing something out of her open window at Eve’s closed one. Peanut shells? Why is she doing that? Eve groans because seriously, even in the early hours of the morning Villanelle is trying to ruin her day.

But Villanelle has spotted Eve now because she’s stopped throwing nuts and is waving her arms around furiously.

_Jesus Christ._

Eve throws her hands up sluggishly, glaring at Villanelle in part confusion part frustration, who is now wildly gesturing to Eve’s window, motioning her to slide it up.

Eve feels too tired to argue the obvious trap, so just climbs off the bed and approaches the window, sliding it up weakly.

Fresh air hits her in the face, and Eve’s lungs seem oddly grateful.

“Eve, get out!”

What?

“What?” Eve says, voice weirdly scratchy. “What the hell?”

“Your building is on fire, Eve! You need to get the fuck out!”

_Well, this is a new one._

“For god’s sake Villanelle, can’t you save it til morning? This is taking things too far, I’m trying to sleep.”

Villanelle curses in what Eve assumes is Russian, and now that Eve’s head feels clearer she realises that Villanelle really does look frantic, eyes wide and bordering on frightened.

“Look behind you, you idiot! Can you not see the smoke? Do you not feel it making you dizzy?”

She’s scaring her now. Eve is like this, she gets caught up in other people’s emotions, and she’s clearly feeding off whatever state Villanelle is in. She’s scared to turn around, but clenches her jaw and looks over her shoulder.

Her room is foggy, grey curls of smoke making their way in around the door, slowly filling the room with a dangerous haze.

“Shit,” Eve whispers to the room before turning back to Villanelle, voice rising. “Shit!”

“Finally.” Villanelle says weakly, rubbing her hand over her face hard before staring at Eve desperately. “Eve, you need to get out.”

“How?” Panic has fully set in for Eve now, the smoke rising around her and the distinct sound of crackling reaching her from below. “I can’t go downstairs, that’s where the fire is!”

Villanelle curses in Russian again and drags her fingers through her hair harshly.

“Okay,” she says, seemingly to herself. “Okay, okay, okay.”

She suddenly looks up, staring at Eve with determination.

“You need to jump to my window.”

Eve laughs shrilly.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She half shouts through the laughter. “I cannot jump across, this isn’t fucking Spider Man!”

“Do you have a better idea?” Villanelle shouts back angrily, and then she starts to push her window up higher, creating a wider space and _no, no way, no fucking way-_

“I could climb onto the roof?”

Eve knows it’s a terrible idea before she’s even finished talking, but Villanelle’s look just helps to confirm it.

“Eve.” She says, obviously trying to stay calm. “Just climb out of your window, sit on the ledge, and push yourself off towards me. I will catch you.”

Eve laughs again but it turns into a cough when she inhales smoke.

“I can’t!” She yells. “I’ll fall!”

“You will not fall, I will catch you! Come on!”

Villanelle stars climbing out of her own window, one knee planted firmly on her ledge and the other leg still inside, braced behind her. She reaches her hands towards Eve, eyes still frightened but with something else there now, something certain.

“Eve,” she says, “I will catch you. I promise.”

It’s a Tuesday night and she’s going to jump out of a _fucking window._

Eve lifts herself up and swings her legs out before she can second guess herself, another cough bursting out of her chest as she takes a deep breath in an awful attempt at calming down.

_I will never be calm ever again._

Villanelle’s arms are still out, and they make grabby motions that almost make Eve laugh for real, because how, how is she being almost cute at a time like this?

“I will grab your arms, but your legs will probably swing into the building, okay?” Villanelle says, certainty also laced in her voice now. “But I promise you, Eve, I will not drop you. I will count to three and on three you jump, yes?”

Eve can’t talk anymore, panic gripping her throat, so she nods quickly, eyes refusing to leave Villanelle’s own wide ones. She grips the sides of the window and puts her feet against the wall, ready to jump.

_I can do this._

“One.”

_Jesus fuck no I can’t._

“Two.”

_I’m going to die in my pyjamas aren’t I-_

“Three!”

Eve jumps.

She reaches out her hands, feels the air rush through her fingers, her hair, her loose clothing.

Feels hand close firmly around her elbows, strong, not letting go.

Her legs slam into the wall and she cries out, grimacing, but she’s not falling, she’s not falling, she’s okay she’s okay she’s-

“I’ve got you.”

She’s being lifted up.

She’s being pulled through the window.

She’s on the floor.

And-

And she can breathe.

Eve keeps her eyes closed, breathing deeply, trying to slow her raging heartbeat. There’s the sound of the window sliding shut and the thud of knees next to her, and then there’s a gentle hand on her shoulder, just touching her, not shaking her or squeezing her, just… there.

“You did it, you jumped.” Villanelle sounds almost giddy with relief. “Eve, you are okay.”

_I’m okay._

Eve’s slowing heartbeat rockets back up when she realises what she’s forgotten up until now. She bolts upright.

“My studio!” Eve gasps, fear thick in her voice. “Oh my god, my- we need to call-”

“I have called the fire department already, Eve, I did that while trying to wake you.” Villanelle says quietly, hand still calm on Eve’s shoulder. “They should be here any minute.”

Sure enough, the distant sound of sirens wailing reaches them, and Eve lets out a watery sigh of relief.

“If the smoke was reaching my room, then… then-”

Villanelle shushes her softly, and Eve’s too nauseous over what her livelihood might currently look like to dwell on how gentle Villanelle is being.

“The fire department will put out the fire, and then we will see what has happened.” Villanelle says calmly.

She lifts her other hand and places it on Eve’s other shoulder, just as soothingly, before lowering her head to catch Eve’s eyes.

Eve is suddenly taken with the amount of concern and relief swirling in the golden hazel eyes staring into her own, unable to look away.

“Eve,” Villanelle breathes through the smallest smile. “You are okay.”

——

Talking to the firemen is horrible.

They managed to put out the flames fairly quickly before heading through the building to assess the damage, leaving Eve and Villanelle outside, a blanket draped around Eve’s shoulders from Villanelle’s couch.

Eve had told Villanelle she could stay inside, but for some reason she’d insisted that Eve not be alone. So here they were, side by side, waiting for the verdict.

They didn’t have to wait long.

The firemen informed Eve that it was an electrical malfunction in her kitchen that started the fire, which consumed that entire room and started to spread into the studio and the bottom of the stairs, sending smoke billowing up into the rooms above.

Eve stands still, staring at the smoke blackened studio through the window, tape around the outside of the building to stop anyone getting near.

She hears footsteps behind her but doesn’t move, just tightens the blanket around her shoulders.

“Eve?” Villanelle’s voice is quiet, careful. “Why don’t you come back to mine, I will make you some tea.”

“Yours?”

Her voice sounds weird in her ears.

“Yes. You cannot stay at yours, you heard what they said, you have to stay out for a while.”

“I’ll… I’ll stay at a hotel.”

Eve’s view of her studio is suddenly blocked by Villanelle, who gives her a disbelieving look.

“Eve, no, you will stay at mine. At least for tonight. I don’t think you should be alone-”

“You already said that.”

“And I meant it.” Villanelle’s look is open now, honest. Eve feels it like a flame. “Stay at mine tonight.”

Eve opens her mouth to argue, but Villanelle cuts in.

“I promise I will behave myself. I will be nice.”

And Eve can’t help but smile at that.

——

Eve insisted on taking the sofa, which Villanelle was fine with.

“I love my bed. I will not give it up if you are happy with the couch.”

Villanelle sets her up with blankets and pillows, piling them on top of Eve even after she tells her to stop, laughter muffled by a faux fur throw Villanelle casually drops over her head.

Villanelle has been nice, as promised. She’s been welcoming, and generous, and genuinely friendly. And it’s been… fun.

It’s weird.

“Okay, if you are comfortable, I will go to bed now.”

Villanelle rubs one eye sleepily before lifting her hand in a wave and turning to head through to her bedroom.

Eve is surprised to suddenly feel panic set back in.

“Wait, Villanelle, I-”

Villanelle turns round and looks at Eve expectantly.

But she can’t say anything. Her mouth just opens and closes stupidly, and Eve doesn’t know why she can’t just ask.

“You want me to stay with you.”

Villanelle doesn’t ask it. It’s stated, as if she knows.

“If… if you wouldn’t mind.”

Villanelle doesn’t say anything as she walks over to the couch. She climbs on and rearranges the blankets to bundle herself up in a cocoon, faux fur throw draped over her own head like a hood.

Eve shakes her head, not actually minding the fond feeling that swells in her chest at the sight.

“So,” Villanelle says from inside her blanket mountain. “Netflix? We should watch The Spy Who Dumped Me. It is a feel good movie, perfect for post-fire stress.”

And Eve doesn’t want to laugh at that, or at Villanelle’s ridiculous get-up, but she does, and Villanelle beams in response.

“I am glad you agreed to stay, Eve. And you can stay as long as you want.”

Villanelle looks down at the TV remote for a moment, turning it over in her hands thoughtfully before looking back up at Eve.

She’s surprised to see something like nerves simmering in the hazel.

“I would like it if we could be friends.”

And there’s that warmth again.

“Friends?”

“Yes. I think that maybe I do not want to… play our game, anymore.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” Villanelle says softly. “So, Eve, would you like to be friends?”

And god, Villanelle sat there with a fur hood slipping down over her forehead and remote control twisting in her hands and hopeful smile on her face is just about the cutest thing Eve has ever seen, and she doesn’t even care when that thought flits through her mind.

“Friends.” Eve says with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Villanelle smiles bigger as they look at each other for maybe a moment too long.

Eve lets it linger.

It feels like warming by a fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: house fire but no one is injured. 
> 
> The spy that dumped me is a hilarious albeit predictable film and I love it


	6. Plant Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite as hectic as the last chapter but we have places to get to, people! xo

One night, when Villanelle was 11, she’d woken up abruptly to a soft thud.

Thinking she’d imagined it, she settled back down into her pillows, eyes slipping shut.

A sharp click had her eyes immediately open again.

She’d caught the gentle murmur of unknown voices coming from the back door of the house, directly below her own bedroom, and quickly debated whether to hide under her covers or go down and investigate.

Long, exciting story short, young Villanelle had saved her home from being burgled by throwing a terracotta plant pot at one man’s head and repeatedly kicking the other man in the crotch, all while screaming for her parents at the top of her tiny lungs.

The local police department gave her a certificate. Her parents got cool new locks on the doors that she was allowed to know the codes to. They even bought her a pretty potted Oleander for her to keep in the conservatory, despite denying her one for over a year due to the fact that they have the potential to literally kill people.

Her parents loved to tell people the story of brave little Villanelle, and how her light sleeping had saved the day.

Villanelle continued to be a light sleeper into adulthood.

The soft crackling sound had woken her almost instantly, and one look out the window had confirmed that what she was hearing was the sound of something burning. That something being the downstairs level of Eve’s building.

And it was like the orange flames she could see through the window of Eve’s kitchen below were inside Villanelle too, burning her insides with white hot panic. A panic that momentarily wiped her mind, and it was like the last five years just flashed before her eyes. Every insult, every trick, every calculated move, all spinning through her head.

And god, each and every one of them were so unimportant, so trivial and stupid and-

Villanelle needed to get Eve out.

She’d called 999 while throwing peanut shells at Eve’s window, and her knees had nearly buckled in relief when she saw Eve’s messy curls pop into view.

She knew her plan of Eve jumping had been risky, but the thought of Eve staying in the burning building and waiting to be rescued just set off more of that panic and Villanelle couldn’t, she just couldn’t.

The relief she’d felt at having Eve lie on her bedroom floor, gasping and frightened but very much alive, was better than every bit of satisfaction from their feud put together.

And what Villanelle had said to Eve as they sat side by side on her sofa, bundled under blankets, was true; she didn’t want to play anymore. She was done with the meaningless and energy consuming war.

Villanelle wanted things to be good between them. Just in case.

——

Villanelle groans a bit upon waking, her neck stiff and legs sore from sleeping on the sofa, but it only takes a second before the night previous comes back to her. Smoke. Fire. Window. Jump. Eve. Eve. Eve.

She opens her eyes and peeks to her left to see Eve curled up against the sofa arm, blankets still swaddled around her, and Villanelle decides to let her sleep a while longer, to keep Eve in a state of unawares before the reality of the situation hits.

She gets up to make some tea, crunching through an apple as she lets the tea bag brew in her ‘plant princess’ mug, a gift from Konstantin’s daughter, Irina, that Villanelle pretended to hate but secretly used every single morning without fail.

She glances up automatically to look into Eve’s kitchen, and freezes when she sees the blown out glass, charred wooden frame, and the blackened interior beyond. Maybe she should wake Eve up after all, a lot of phone calls will need to be made this morning.

“Uh, hey.”

Villanelle looks over her shoulder and sees Eve, tee and shorts crumpled and hair pulled into a messy bun, looking down at her feet. She turns and walks to the counter to switch the kettle back on.

“Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee?” Villanelle says in greeting, hearing Eve slide into a seat at the table.

“Coffee, please, milk-”

“Milk, no sugar, I know.” Villanelle smiles at her before reaching to pull out a mug for Eve. “How are you feeling?”

She hears Eve chuckle humorlessly.

“Like my house almost burnt down.” She replies, accepting the mug of coffee with a grimace that might have been intended as a smile. “I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to do now.”

Villanelle joins Eve at the table with her cup of tea, hands wrapped around it and fingers gently tapping the side as she thinks.

“I will help you.” Villanelle says. “First, you need to call the others and tell them not to come in. Actually, we should make a list, shouldn’t we. I will get paper.”

Villanelle grabs a pad and pen from a drawer before Eve has chance to say anything, but glancing back at her face tells Villanelle that Eve hasn’t got the energy right now anyway.

She sits back down and flips to a clean page.

“So, call artists.” She mumbles as she scribbles it down. “Then you must call your insurance company. And then… then I think you must call someone to fix your window, that is important.”

“My window?”

Villanelle looks up again at the croak in Eve’s voice and is startled to see tears in her eyes.

“No, no Eve, it is okay, do not cry.” Villanelle says, reaching out to touch Eve’s hand but hesitating halfway, dropping her own hand to the table and leaving it there. “We will sort this out, you will make calls and I will… I don’t know, I will be a supportive friend. I will bring you coffee. And I will make more soup!”

Eve gives out a watery chuckle at that, and Villanelle smiles wide, relief filling her again at getting Eve to pause in her sadness, even if just for a moment.

“I almost forgot that we’re friends now.” Eve says through a small, watery smile.

“Yes, well, we are.” Villanelle says firmly with a nod. “And as your friend I will keep writing this list for you. Who else do you need to call?”

And so they sit for 20 minutes, sipping their drinks and working out the plan, who to contact, what rules apply, etc, until Villanelle slides the pad over to Eve along with her phone.

“Use my phone,” Villanelle says before standing up. “I am guessing yours is still in your room. I am going to take a shower and get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready for the day! It is going to be a busy one, Eve, we have a lot to do. So please, start making your calls. I will just be through there.” Villanelle points to the door at the end of the kitchen which leads to the bathroom.

Eve gives her a nod and a weak smile before picking up the phone and taking a deep breath, and Villanelle spares a moment to think fondly of how Eve seems to know the numbers of her staff by heart.

——

Villanelle doesn’t allow herself to luxuriate in the shower as she normally would, lathering herself up with expensive bubbles and essential oils, and instead speeds through the process. Although she does indulge in full body moisturising; she‘s not an animal.

The smell of rose and orange blossom delicate on her skin, Villanelle steps back into the kitchen wrapped in a fluffy white towel, smiling when Eve looks over at her.

Eve, who immediately flushes at the sight and turns back to the pad in front of her.

“Oh, you’re- uh…” Eve stumbles over her words, much to Villanelle’s delight. “I’m sorry, you’re… I shouldn’t-”

“Eve,” Villanelle says through a chuckle, arriving at the table and glancing down at the list items Eve has been crossing out. “It is just a towel. Friends see each other like this all the time.”

“Uh huh.” Eve mumbles, still staring hard at the pad.

“And besides,” says Villanelle through a growing smirk. “It is not like I haven’t seen you in a similar state of undress, is it.”

Eve does look up at that, cheeks immediately turning more red and eyes narrowed.

“That was an accident.”

“And what a beautiful accident it was.” Villanelle says with a wink, before walking towards the stairs, holding back a laugh at Eve’s embarrassed huff behind her.

Being friends with Eve was going to be fun.

——

Standing side by side, Villanelle in sweatpants and a tank top, Eve in some of Villanelle’s shorts and a baggy tee, they stare at the entrance to the studio.

The front of the building was fine, with no fire or smoke damage at all. Eve lifted the mat and grabbed a flat rock from beneath it, turning it over to reveal a key, which Villanelle scoffs at. She’d need to have a talk with Eve about being more safety conscious in a place like London.

Eve unlocks the door and the pair head inside, looking over the blackened back wall, smoke damage leaving the drawings and prints there unreadable. Eve sighs.

“Well, there goes those designs.” She says sadly, walking over to inspect the damage. “Fucking fantastic.”

Villanelle hums in sympathy while heading to the back door, pushing it open gently and hearing the wood creak. She checks the back of it once open and her suspicions that the other side is burnt are confirmed. She sighs and walks through to the kitchen.

What’s left of it, anyway.

She stops, staring around her at the burnt mess that was Eve’s living space, furniture crumpled and charred, fridge melted and cupboards hanging off the wall. She hears a gasp behind her, and turns to see Eve standing there, eyes wide and hand over her mouth.

“I am sorry, Eve.”

She says it softly but Eve doesn’t respond, just slips past Villanelle slowly to stand in the centre of the room, slowly turning to take it all in.

“It’s gone.”

“It is.” Villanelle nods, never being one to beat around the bush. “But the insurance money will help you buy new things.”

“I don’t want new things.” Eve whispers. “I want my things.”

Villanelle doesn’t know what to say, so walks towards Eve’s desk instead, grimacing at how it buckles under a gentle touch of her hand.

“Fuck.” Eve bites out, suddenly next to Villanelle and staring down at the mess. “Fuck, my work. There was years of work in those drawers, there was-”

She cuts herself off with a pained squeak and Villanelle quickly glances at her, chest tightening at the miserable sound. Eve walks around the desk and crouches next to the pile of wood, tears swimming in her eyes.

“My Norman Collins flash sheet.” Eve mumbles, eyes scanning the ashes hopelessly. “An original piece of Sailor Jerry work. It’s…”

Eve trails off, and Villanelle says nothing, knowing that whatever Eve is upset about right now cannot be fixed with words. Eve stands and quickly swipes at her eyes.

“I’m going to check upstairs.”

She’s gone in seconds, her footsteps muffled on the stairs, and Villanelle sighs.

Eve is sad.

Villanelle doesn’t like it when Eve is sad.

She quickly rushes out of the building and back into her own, grabbing a bag and filling it with supplies before dashing back into Eve’s, eager to fix the problems that she can actually help with.

Maybe if she can get this done, then Eve will sound less sad, and Villanelle will be able to think properly again.

——

An hour has gone by before Eve comes back down again, and Villanelle sees her stop in her tracks, staring at her.

“Do not worry,” Villanelle says, wiping at her brow with her forearm. “The fire department took photos and so did I.”

“You’re… cleaning?”

Villanelle stretches pleasantly after being hunched over the counter for so long. She drops the brush and pulls off the green gardening gloves she’s wearing while flashing Eve a bright smile.

“I am.” Villanelle says. “I cannot fix the problems that are making you sad. But I can fix the problems that will give you the space to be sad, if that is something you need. I read that people like space to be sad in. Pick up a sponge and come help.”

Eve is still frozen, staring around her. In the hour she’d been gone, Villanelle had managed to clear most of the wooden rubble and ash into bin bags which stand neatly by the back door, and is a third of the way through sweeping and scrubbing the marble countertops, still intact but covered in ash.

But Eve is just standing there, staring at her with this… look, a look Villanelle can’t decipher, but one that makes her feel warm nonetheless. She tries again.

“Cleaning is very therapeutic.” Villanelle says earnestly, “Honestly, this really is not that bad.”

Eve moves slowly and stops when she’s beside Villanelle, who goes to put her gloves back on but is stopped by Eve’s hand on her wrist.

It’s warm and steady and Villanelle feels something like a spark where she touches, a little flicker causing her to glance quickly at the woman next to her.

The woman who is looking at her with wide, grateful eyes, slightly red from crying but still the deepest chocolate brown that Villanelle could honestly just swim in, and-

And Eve hugs her.

She wraps her arms around Villanelle’s shoulders and squeezes her, curly hair pressed against Villanelle’s cheek, chin resting on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Eve murmurs, and Villanelle closes her eyes at the words, at the feel of Eve’s arms around her, at the feel of one million sparks skipping across every inch of her.

“You are welcome, Eve.” She breathes out.

“No,” Eve says softly, pulling back slightly so she can look Villanelle in the eye, and she’s so close, too close, not close enough- “Really. Thank you. You’re turning out to be a pretty good friend.”

Villanelle smiles happily, feeling it bubble in her chest.

“You are welcome.” She says again, before Eve puts her chin back on her shoulder and tightens her hold.

Villanelle’s arms come up to circle Eve’s waist, holding her firmly and running one hand soothingly up and down Eve’s back before she even realises she’s doing it.

Those sparks are clustered in her chest now, over her heart, giving it a speedy beat to dance to.

Villanelle sighs into Eve’s curls and pulls her the tiniest bit closer.

And as she pulls Eve in, she halfheartedly pushes out the little thoughts trying to draw her attention to the warmth and the sparks and the soft itch in her fingertips. Villanelle closes her eyes.

Maybe being friends with Eve is going to be more difficult than she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to confirm that Villanelle did not start the fire. I’m mentioning it here because I haven’t mentioned in the story anywhere that she didn’t, and I don’t want anyone worrying that it’s gonna come back and angstily bite her in the butt.


	7. Sour Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is ‘fuck-off’ used as a descriptive word anywhere other than the uk? If not, then heads up, it means ‘really’, sort of... like, a fuck-off big tree, or a fuck-off loud church bell. ANYWAY here’s Wonderwall

It takes days to fully clean up her flat, and Eve is exhausted.

And although she keeps denying it, Eve can tell that Villanelle is too.

The only things left to do are the window and cupboards, which the repair guy will be fixing tomorrow morning, meaning all Eve can do now is wait. 

The last four nights have been spent at Villanelle’s, despite her second round of instistance after the first day of cleaning that she could stay in a hotel.

“What, you don’t like my home?”

“No, no, it’s lovely, I just-”

“Then you will stay here. It would be rude to turn down an invitation, Eve.”

“But I-“ 

“So what will we watch tonight? Brooklyn Nine Nine is very funny, we will see which character you are. I, am a Gina.” 

And so Eve hadn’t tried to argue again after that. 

But after four nights of sleeping on Villanelle’s sofa, the first of which was the night of the fire and so the sleep she did get was broken and cramped, Eve’s body is sore and begging for the comfort of a mattress.

They’re sat at Villanelle’s dining table while the younger woman cooks and Eve tries to answer emails on her phone, getting more and more frustrated at how much more complicated it is to do through an app.

“Jesus Christ, all I want to do is reply to this fucking email, why won’t it just… fucking…” Eve trails off into an angry groan and lifts the phone to fling it across the room, but suddenly there’s a hand around her wrist and another pulling the mobile out of her own.

“Okay, angry wangry,” Villanelle says calmly, pressing Eve’s phone screen a few times until a ‘whoosh’ notification sound comes from it. “I know you are tired but breaking your phone will not help things.”

Eve grumbles and grabs her phone back, looking at the screen to see if she can work out what Villanelle did to get the email to send, and when she looks back up Villanelle is smirking at her.

“The fajitas are ready,” she says, walking back towards the cooker. “Let’s eat. And if you let me choose what we watch tonight I will teach you how to use your phone.” 

“I know how to use it…” Eve mumbles, eyes narrowed but still standing to help Villanelle lay the dishes of steaming food on the table. “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“About your phone? Or about what we shall watch? Because do not worry, Eve, I have a good movie in mind.”

Eve starts loading chicken and peppers onto her warm tortilla as Villanelle spoons salsa onto hers, and then they swap, Eve laughing when Villanelle scoops a huge handful of grated cheese into her mouth before sprinkling another handful over her food.

Eve grabs the bottle of sour cream and starts squirting it all over her meat and peppers, not stopping until the white fluffy stuff is all she can see on the tortilla. When she looks up again she finds Villanelle staring at her strangely. 

“...What?”

Villanelle comically darts her gaze between Eve’s plate and her face repeatedly, dramatic expression of disbelief in place. 

“Would you and the sour cream like a room?”

“What,” Eve says with a shrug and a laugh. “I like sour cream!”

Villanelle pretends to gag when Eve shoves the wrap into her mouth, humming around the sour cream and bulging her cheeks out on purpose, and it’s fun, messing around with Villanelle like this. It’s fun and relaxed and not at all what Eve had expected friendship with Villanelle to be like, especially not after only four days.

But here they are, joking back and forth over the delicious food Villanelle has made, and it settles warmly in Eve’s chest, making it hard for her to stop smiling throughout dinner. Not that she wants to, anyway.

“What did you want to talk about?” Villanelle asks, flicking a piece of onion that had fallen out of her fajita at Eve.

Eve manages to catch the onion and pops it in her mouth much to Villanelle’s delight, and before the younger woman can suggest some kind of food throwing game, because Eve _knows_ that’s where Villanelle will go, she answers her question.

“I’m going to stay in a hotel tonight.” Villanelle immediately opens her mouth to argue, but Eve cuts back in with a raised hand. “I know, I know, but I’m aching, Villanelle. My back is killing me and my muscles are sore from cleaning and I just want to sleep on a mattress. That’s all.”

Villanelle frowns, and Eve doesn’t like what this announcement has done to their fun dinner.

“It’s not you, it’s me.” She says with exaggerated sincerity, trying to lighten the mood, and succeeds in pulling an eye roll from the other woman.

“If ‘that’s all’, Eve, then why didn’t you say so?”

Villanelle stands up and starts clearing their plates, leaving Eve quietly confused as she heads to the dishwasher.

“What do mean?” She asks Villanelle’s back.

“I mean,” says Villanelle, loading the plates into the tray, “that you should have said something sooner. I have a bed. You can just sleep in that.”

“Oh,” says Eve, surprised, standing herself to collect the bottles and extra wraps. “Well, that’s really sweet of you. But where will you sleep?” 

Villanelle finishes loading the plates and rubs her hands on a tea towel before turning to Eve with a smile.

“Eve, you are so silly.” She says fondly, then lifts her hands to squish Eve’s cheeks. “I will also be in the bed.”

She lets go of Eve’s face with a gentle pat to one cheek and then walks towards the stairs, Eve staring after her motionless, her brain trying to kick back into gear.

“Also?”

She hears Villanelle laugh as she heads upstairs.

“Do not forget your phone. Tonight’s lesson will be Gmail!”

——

Gmail 101 taught and passed, they sit bundled in blankets, Inception playing on the TV. Villanelle is leaning forward, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands, mouth slightly open and eyes wide as she watches, while Eve sits and stares at Villanelle instead.

Sharing a bed isn’t a big deal. She’s shared a bed with Elena before, usually after one of the studio’s monthly game nights got a bit too rowdy. She shared beds with countless friends at high school sleepovers and late night uni study sessions. Sharing beds is what friends do.

So why does the thought of sharing one with Villanelle make her feel… well, _feel_.

She studies the sharp line of Villanelle’s jaw, the soft curl of her eyelashes, the messy dark blonde hair running down her back in a loose braid. She studies it like she used to study her textbooks, working hard to learn back then, and working hard to learn now.

But learn what?

There’s a tiny Eve in the back of her mind, a tiny Eve that big Eve can usually shove away, but she’s standing tall tonight and shouting and waving a sign that reads ‘don’t you remember?’, and of course she does, of _course_.

Of course she remembers the swirling in her stomach the first time she saw Villanelle. Of course she remembers the way Villanelle’s touch lingered on her arm when Eve went to welcome her new neighbour. Of course she remembers the way Villanelle’s eyes would drop to her lips whenever Eve spoke to her over those first few weeks. Of course she remembers what it felt like to push Villanelle against-

Eve’s not trying to learn anything that she doesn’t already know.

She already knows exactly why the thought of sharing a bed with Villanelle makes her _feel_.

But they’re friends now. They’ve never been friends before. Friends share beds.

But so do two people who-

Friends share beds.

“Eve, you are missing it, this is the best part.”

Eve startles at the interruption to her thoughts but is grateful for it, so she clears her throat and looks at the screen, just in time to see the fuck-off massive train go barrelling through the street out of nowhere. A somewhat manic laugh bubbles out of Villanelle, causing Eve to stare at her again but this time in amused alarm.

“This is your favourite part?”

“Mmhm,” Villanelle hums, nodding earnestly at Eve before looking back at the movie. “It is just, like… _boom_ , and then the road is getting torn up, and it is loud and just, so cool.” 

Eve shakes her head and smiles at Villanelle’s giddy rambling, turning back to the screen herself to watch. She’s immediately distracted though by Villanelle pausing the movie.

“We should put on comfier clothes.” Villanelle says, jumping up and nodding towards her room. “I forgot how long this movie is, I have only seen it about 20 times.”

“20 times?” Eve says in surprise, getting up and following Villanelle. “And I thought I was bad. I’ve seen it 10 times, max.”

“It is not bad to love movies, Eve.”

“No, I know,” Eve rushes to say, entering the bedroom behind her and heading over to her bag stuffed with a few day’s worth of clothes. “I do love them. A lot, actually.”

“I know,” Villanelle smiles at her, grabbing a tee and shorts from her drawers. “That is just one of the things I like about you.”

Eve tries to fight off the blush she feels in her cheeks, but smirks nonetheless.

“ _One_ of the things?” She teases, settling into the role that she and Villanelle have both been in these last few days. “Do you have a list?”

“Wouldn’t you like to-” Villanelle stops suddenly and gasps, clapping her hands. “Oh my god, we should watch Ten Things I Hate About You tomorrow! It is perfect, and it is about a list!”

Eve scoffs and grabs her things, heading back towards the living room to change as she replies.

“Well in that case, why not Schindler’s List?”

Eve laughs at Villanelle’s soft grumble of “party pooper” aimed at her retreating back.

—— 

It’s late when the credits roll, and Villanelle doesn’t stifle the huge yawn that takes her.

It’s this gasping of breath that makes Eve realise how close they are. One or both of them must have moved during the movie, because Eve’s sweatpants covered thigh is lightly pressed against the skin of Villanelle’s, the younger woman’s shorts ending high up on her legs. Eve swears she can feel the heat where they touch, even through the cotton of her joggers.

And then Villanelle drops her head to Eve’s shoulder, and if she thought she was warm before then she’s suffering from a fever now.

“I have really enjoyed watching movies and shows with you, Eve.” Villanelle says sleepily, somewhere near Eve’s neck, but not close enough for Eve to feel her breath against her skin. Purely innocent.

“Me too.” Eve says quietly, and before she can stop herself she’s lifting her hand and gently resting it on Villanelle’s head, smoothing down her hair just slightly.

Villanelle practically purrs like a cat at the touch and snuggles further into Eve’s shoulder.

And Eve has to say something before she does something silly like run her fingers through the soft, honey blonde locks.

“Let’s go to bed.” Eve suggests, then rolls her eyes at the low chuckle Villanelle lets out. “Don’t say it.” 

“Okay, okay.” Villanelle says in a somewhat suggestive tone, lifting her head. “I mean, you are the one who thought it, Eve.”

Villanelle is shooting her a smirk, and Eve is very tired and very warm and very likely to do something that will complicate this and mess things up, so she stands instead of taking the bait.

Villanelle’s brow dips for a millisecond, a flicker of something sad or confused dancing through her eyes, so Eve reaches out her hand to drag Villanelle upright as well as the both of them back into the relaxed moment from before, where Eve isn’t… pining, and Villanelle isn’t… whatever just happened to Villanelle.

Villanelle stands still, staring at Eve for a second, looking at her with an inscrutable gaze that Eve can’t even begin to work out. 

“Okay!” Villanelle says, and when she starts to walk away and looks back at Eve over her shoulder, Eve is relieved to see her smile back in place.

In the bedroom, Villanelle wanders around and turns the various lamps off before sliding into bed, humming contentedly and then staring at Eve. 

“Get in then.” She says to Eve, who catches the amused glint in Villanelle’s eyes, lit gently by the string of fairy lights hung above the bed. “I won’t bite.”

Eve rolls her eyes at the wink thrown her way, smothering the butterflies in her stomach that start to flap themselves into a frenzy at the sight. She grabs the thick duvet and pulls it back, sliding into the bed and burrowing herself under the covers.

She’s not even embarrassed at the pleased groan she lets out at the luxurious softness of the mattress; it’s that wonderful against her sore body that she doesn’t even care.

And then the bed is dipping slightly and Eve opens her eyes to see Villanelle scooching closer. Not too close, nothing crazy, but close enough that Eve can watch the reflection of the twinkling lights flicker in Villanelle’s hazel eyes.

“I am glad we are friends.” Villanelle says in a hushed voice.

”Me too.” Eve whispers honestly, because she is, god, _she is_ , this is so much better than the excitement that came with fighting, even though Eve might already be thinking that friendship isn’t enough. But she won’t think about that right now. Not now, not after spending a great evening with her friend, who she’d very much like to keep as a friend.

Maybe Eve _has_ learnt something tonight after all. Maybe she’s learnt that being friends with Villanelle is better than being nothing at all. 

And wow, is that not just the most cliche fucking garbage line she’s ever thought in her life.

Eve can handle friendship just fine.

But then Villanelle is reaching out, her hand appearing from under the covers and slowly touching Eve’s cheek, brushing aside a loose curl that had fallen across her forehead to tuck it behind her ear, so delicately that Eve isn’t sure Villanelle even touched her at all.

She’d be certain that she hadn’t if it wasn’t for the sparks she can feel, prickling the line Villanelle’s fingers took across her cheekbone.

And for a flicker of a second, Eve swears she sees Villanelle’s eyes dip to her lips, just like they used to.

But then Villanelle’s eyes are on hers again, and she’s smiling softly and murmuring “goodnight, Eve”, before rolling over and snuggling further into her plush pillows.

Eve stares at the back of Villanelle’s head, playing the moment over and over again until she’s convinced herself that her tired eyes were just seeing things, and that her mind is drowsy with exhaustion and the evening’s revelations, creating things that Eve maybe wants but aren’t actually there.

But she can’t shake off those sparks across her cheek, can’t blink away the soft but wistful look in Villanelle’s eyes as she’d tucked the loose curl away.

Eve muffles a long and slow exhale into the duvet, grounding herself, before nuzzling further into her own pillows.

And if she moves herself the tiniest bit closer to Villanelle, then it’s only because of the warmth rolling off the other woman in waves, drawing Eve in, like a moth to a flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sour cream is a blessing and I love it. Also Inception is my favourite film of all time and the train bit is RAD! 
> 
> @fixyfics on Twitter if you wanna chat!


	8. Gin Brambles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tiniest bit pushing the T rating? If you squint/use your imagination.

_ “Hi.”  _

_ Villanelle is just finishing putting up another shelf when the greeting comes from behind her. She turns to see the woman from yesterday, the one who she’d caught staring at her while she directed the movers. The one with the hair.  _

_ Villanelle smiles.  _

_ “Hello,” she replies, quickly dropping her eyes to appreciate the tight black jeans on the woman. “You work next door, yes?” _

_ “I do. I’m Eve, I own the tattoo parlour. And I live above it.” _

_ “Villanelle.” She replies, reaching out to shake Eve’s hand, “I live here too now. I guess that makes us neighbours.” _

_ “Yeah, I guess so.” Eve says quietly, a focussed look in her eyes as she squeezes Villanelle’s hand in a shake.  _

_ Villanelle finds that she likes that look. It’s different to the looks that other women give her, who mostly seem to look at her like she’s dessert or competition. Eve’s look is more thoughtful, like she’s already seen something in Villanelle that she wants to figure out.  _

_ And Villanelle is more than happy to let her try. There’s something about this woman with her tight clothing, contemplative gaze and undeniably attractive tattoos, and don’t even get her started on those dark curls, wild over her shoulders. Maybe Villanelle could try figuring Eve out, too.  _

_ The handshake has gone on way longer than necessary, so Villanelle slowly lets go, her fingertips trailing along the soft skin of Eve’s palm as she pulls her hand back to cross her arms.  _

_ Villanelle turns on the seductive charm that always works so well for her. _

_ “So,” Villanelle says, smirking slightly at Eve trying to inconspicuously rub her palm on her jeans, “are you here to be neighbourly? Would you like to help me put up shelves?” _

_ “Where are you from?” Eve asks instead of answering. “Your accent is... I like it.” _

_ Villanelle lifts her eyebrows, somewhat surprised at Eve’s forward compliment.  _

_ “Russia.” _

_ “Russia,” Eve repeats softly. “Cool. It’s nice.” _

_ Villanelle laughs a little at that. _

_ “I am not sure I would call it cool, but thank you.” Villanelle tilts her head a little, dropping her gaze down Eve’s front again. “So, neighbour. Want to help?” _

_ “I can’t,” Eve says sounding regretful. “I have a client soon. But maybe you could come to the studio today, meet the gang. Unless you’re busy, I imagine you have a lot to do.” _

_ Villanelle takes a step forward, standing closer to Eve but not too close, just testing the waters. She’s pleased when Eve doesn’t flinch, but stays in place with that same interested look on her face. She takes another step forward.  _

_ “Yes, I would like that.” Villanelle replies with a small smile, and then she reaches out to touch Eve’s arm, the one covered in thick black lines, and trails her finger gently over the curve of a storm cloud. “Maybe you can show me some of your designs. I have been thinking about getting a tattoo for a while now.”  _

_ To Eve’s credit, the only thing that gives any sort of reaction away to Villanelle’s touch is the gulp she takes, drawing Villanelle’s eyes straight to her throat.  _

_ “Sounds good.” Eve replies before taking a breath and a step back. “I’ll see you later, then.” _

_ “Mmhm,” Villanelle hums through a pleased smile. “See you later, Eve.” _

_ —— _

Villanelle is warm when she wakes up. Warm and comfortable and beginning to mourn the fact that it isn’t Sunday yet so she can’t stay in this comfort for longer. She goes to roll over when she realises a weight across her middle is stopping her, and then suddenly she remembers where she is and who she’s with. 

Opening her eyes, she smiles when she sees Eve’s arm slung across her rib cage. Then she notices the warm puffs of air against her upper arm and holds back a giggle at how Eve has pressed her forehead against Villanelle’s shoulder, messy curls covering her face and part of Villanelle’s arm. 

It feels so natural, cuddled up like this. But she knows when Eve wakes up she will react, probably freak out, probably push herself away from Villanelle and stumble over words of apology. Villanelle doesn’t want that. She wants Eve to feel like she does, content in their little duvet cocoon. 

She isn’t going to pretend that she doesn’t want Eve to wake up and smile at her, nuzzling closer and letting Villanelle push the curls away from her face, just like last night. 

And okay, so maybe Villanelle has realised over the last few days that while being friends with Eve is fun, it could be so much  _ more _ fun. Like the fun they’ve been having watching movies and playing scrabble and cleaning while dancing to Eve’s 90s playlist, but with kissing. And touching. And kissing and touching at the same time. 

Images of what happened five years ago flash through her mind trying to sour her thoughts, but she pushes them away. It was a long time ago, they’ve changed. They know each other better now. And she’s sure Eve will apologise eventually. 

Carefully, she reaches blindly with her free arm for her phone, grabbing it off the side table and opening the camera one handed. She holds it above them and sticks out her tongue, leaning her head against Eve’s and snapping a pic before dropping it back onto the table.

“Eve, wake up.” 

The forehead against her shoulder presses closer, accompanied by a muffled moan and a tiny “noo” that makes Villanelle bite her lips together to stop from laughing. 

“Eve, I am sorry but you must wake up, you are so heavy you will surely crush me to death if you do not get up right now.”

It works. 

Villanelle watches as Eve’s head jerks up, curls falling in front of her face messily as she seems to realise her position. 

“Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m-”

And there was the reaction Villanelle had expected. 

As much as Villanelle would like to tease Eve with flirtatious comments and a wink, she knows that that isn’t the way to get Eve to relax around her, not in the way that she wants her to. So instead, she rescues her. 

“My room gets quite cold at night and I run super hot.” She says, flashing Eve a casual smile. “When Elena stayed here, I woke up with her practically spooning me.”

“Elena stayed here?”

“We drank too much tequila during a Love Island drinking game so she slept over.” Villanelle says while pushing the covers down and getting up. “Have you seen that show? It is so bad. Like, really, it is garbage.”

She grabs her robe from the door, draping it around herself then looking at Eve who is still sitting in bed but looking a lot less flustered. And Villanelle can’t resist. 

“Come on, cuddle bug, I will make you breakfast.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eve grumbles while climbing out of bed sleepily. 

“Okay, Evie.”

“No.”

——

After three days off spent cleaning with Eve, Villanelle finally opens up her shop again. 

She’s the only one who works there, not trusting anyone else to look after her store properly, besides Irina who helped her out wrapping bouquets during the busy periods of the year and school holidays. And being the only member of staff meant the shop had stayed closed while she’d been busy. 

Not that she minded. 

She loves her job, her plants, her flowers, even some of her return customers, but Eve needed her, and so she’d been there. 

There was no contest. 

Unlocking her front door and flipping the little ‘open’ sign to face out, Villanelle sighed happily. She’s missed this. She switches on her neon sign and goes about setting up the flower stands out the front, and within half an hour she’s already had two customers.

A little later, hands wrapped around a mug of fruit tea, Villanelle is heading to her laptop on the counter to check if any bespoke orders have come through overnight, when she hears banging coming next door. The repairman must’ve arrived to fix the rest of Eve’s kitchen. 

She’s not the type to dwell, because she doesn’t like wasting time on things that she can’t immediately understand, but Villanelle takes a moment to think back on the past few days and the feelings that came with them regardless. 

She’s never been one to deny herself anything, not the kind of person to lie to herself or hold back feelings and wants and desires either, but with Eve she finds herself attempting to control all of that. 

Villanelle frowns and taps her fingers on the countertop, thinking. What is it that makes her restrain herself around Eve? Is it the lingering bad feelings from five years ago, casting shadows of doubt through her mind and making her careful? Or is it something more than that, something to do with Eve herself rather than the situation they found themselves in back then? 

Was it Eve, awkward, passionate, impatient, strong willed, angry, glorious Eve, that had something in Villanelle holding back from acting like she would with any other woman she was attracted to?

The bell above her door tinkles to announce a customer, and with that delicate chime Villanelle sets her thoughts aside for later, maybe to be enjoyed with a chilled gin and a hot dog. 

——

Her gin bramble, made from the berries she grows in her own garden, is perfect. Of course. She sits on her bed as she sips from her glass, slowly twirling it and causing the ice to spin in the sweet red liquid, thinking about Eve.

She lets the thoughts from earlier back into her mind and examines them with calm eyes, but not quite coming to the conclusion she’d hoped for earlier.

She thinks there may be something there, something alluding to the reason for her controlled behaviour, but it doesn’t seem to want to make itself known. As if something is blocking it, not allowing it to come to the forefront. Is Villanelle herself blocking it? Is she refusing to face it and to listen to it, subconsciously? Hmm. Maybe.

Villanelle figures that it will come to her when it comes to her, so she won't force it. Forcing thoughts causes stress and Villanelle does not like to be stressed, it is bad for her skin which is just so lovely at the moment. So. No stress.

She’s about to load up an audiobook on her iPad when her phone buzzes, and she feels the vibration echo in her chest when she sees Eve’s name on the screen.

iPad entirely forgotten, she swipes the message open.

_ Eve: So, what did the big flower say to the little flower? _

Villanelle: Hello Eve! What flowers? 

_ Eve: Haha, hi. _

_ Eve: It’s a joke! What did the big flower say to the little flower? _

Villanelle: I know, but what type of flowers are they? That is important or I won’t be able to guess the right answer?

_ Eve: Oh my god. _

_ Eve: Just say ‘I don’t know, what did the big flower say to the little flower’. _

Villanelle: Okay okay 

Villanelle: What did the big flower say to the little flower?

_ Eve: ‘What’s up, bud!’ _

Villanelle stares at her phone, corners of her mouth lifting into a smile that soon turns into a grin as she stares at the words.

_ Eve: Do you get it? _

Villanelle: Yes Eve I do

Villanelle: I just had no idea you liked dad jokes

_ Eve: It’s not a dad joke, it’s funny! _

Villanelle: Okay dad

_ Eve: Oh wow, do not call me that. _

She can’t help her smile from twisting into a smirk, the field left wide open for the perfect type of inappropriate comment.

Villanelle: Sorry daddy ;)

_ Eve: We are no longer friends I am never speaking to you ever again goodnight and goodbye. _

Villanelle throws her head back and laughs, delighted by the direction the conversation has gone in.

“Shut up!”

It’s muffled, but Villanelle hears the shout through her subsiding giggles and immediately moves to her window, grin still in place.

Eve is sat on the end of her bed, arms folded and poorly hidden amusement on her face through her forced frown as she stares at Villanelle from across the alleyway. Eve’s window is open and the breeze rolling in is ruffling her hair, and Villanelle feels her chest continue to buzz happily.

“What’s up, bud?” Villanelle says after pushing up her own window.

“Oh,  _ now _ you like the joke?” Eve says with an eye roll before getting up and standing by her own open window.

“I never said I did not like it.” Villanelle says through a grin. “Just that you are a d-”

“Okay that’s enough!” Eve half yells, causing Villanelle to laugh again which in turn seems to pull a defeated chuckle from Eve, who shakes her head with a smile. “You’re awful.”

“I am.” Villanelle agrees with a smile. 

They stare at each other for a few moments, both still smiling, content just looking, until Eve blinks and clears her throat then looks away almost awkwardly.

Villanelle doesn’t want her to look away. Eve starts to open her mouth to say something, and the fear of it being ‘goodnight’ pushes Villanelle into action.

“Come over?”

Eve glances back up, a little confused expression in place.

“But, my house is fine now?”

“Yes Eve I know that, I helped, I was there.” Villanelle replies with an eye roll. “I mean come over and hang out. Come watch another movie.”

Eve looks unsure, like she’s battling with herself about something, and Villanelle suddenly cannot stand the thought of Eve turning her down.

“It is Sunday tomorrow and I have made gin brambles.”

Eve slowly smiles.

“I’ll be there in five.”

Villanelle does a little excited dance once Eve disappears from view.

——

Three brambles in and Eve and Villanelle are laughing a little too loudly considering they’re watching The Hunger Games. 

“So the birds were just falling out of the tree?” Eve says, wiping a tear off her cheek through her laughter.

“Well yes, they were all doped up on morphine!” Villanelle laughed back, waving her hands around while recounting the time her dad had gotten hold of some morphine to sedate a sick and feral cat, but ended up drugging 12 garden birds as well. “They ate the drugged cat food, and I was sitting in the conservatory and suddenly birds were just dropping out of the tree. Yeti the cat was so confused.”

Eve bursts into another round of laughter, covering her face as she does.

“Why was the cat called Yeti?”

“Oof, you should have seen this cat, Eve. So feral, like a soft little beast.”

“God.” Eve says, forcing out slow breaths as she gets her laughter under control. “Did the birds die?”

Villanelle sombers up and presses her lips together.

“Yes, four of them.

And for some reason that just sets them both off all over again.

——

They’re a third of the way through the second Hunger Games film when Villanelle feels gentle hands on her ankles. She’d propped her feet up on Eve’s legs somewhere near the end of the first movie, but until now Eve hadn’t reacted except to throw Villanelle an unimpressed look. Villanelle had smiled innocently back and wiggled her feet, to which Eve rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, leaving Villanelle’s legs where they were.

But now, now Eve’s hands were on her ankles, and they’re warm and kind of heavy against the soft skin of her legs, and Villanelle feels her heart rate pick up just the tiniest bit. 

It’s just Eve’s hands resting on her ankles, but it thrills Villanelle nonetheless, this soft contact that Eve has given her without prompt. She delights in the touch, pulse quickening, skin starting to tingle. 

But then Eve starts to trail a fingertip back and forth in slow and delicate strokes, and everything Villanelle felt in the last two minutes is being completely smothered by what she’s feeling now.

Villanelle prides herself on her sexual prowess, her patient seduction, her ability to smirk and wait out whatever teasing methods other women try to use on her until the women themselves are the ones trembling with anticipation and want. But this?

Villanelle doesn’t think she’s ever felt this much from a touch so simple.

And maybe this has something to do with that thought from earlier, the one she can’t quite see yet. Maybe Eve’s ability to reduce Villanelle to a heartbeat-skipping ball of delicious tension is part of why Villanelle tries to control her behaviour around the other woman. Maybe part of her knows already the power that Eve holds over her, even if Eve doesn’t know it herself.

Villanelle suddenly realises that Eve has the power to make Villanelle feel queen of the fucking universe. She also realises that Eve has the power to destroy her.

Two sides of the same coin.

And that coin has been tossed in her mind, maybe when she saw the fire, maybe sometime during their feud, maybe when they first locked eyes five years ago, but it's flipping through the air and Villanelle thinks that maybe the coin is what’s stopping her from acting like she always does when she wants someone.

Maybe the power Eve unknowingly has is enough to keep Villanelle in check until she can see which side the coin will land on.

And Villanelle is very aware that it’s impossible to predict the result of a coin toss.

The familiar sparks that Eve causes are dancing across her skin, following in the wake of Eve’s slow fingertip back and forth across her ankle, and Villanelle chances a glance towards Eve.

Her eyes are on the screen of the TV and she looks perfectly relaxed, like she isn’t aware that she’s ruining Villanelle from the inside out, but her eyes give her away. They don’t flit across the screen, following the movement of characters. Instead they stay still, looking through the TV, looking beyond it into dazed nothingness, and Villanelle knows then that Eve is thinking about the movement of her fingers too.

Swallowing, Villanelle turns back to the movie and forces a little laugh after a few minutes at an appropriate time, trying to act as though she’s watching the story play out rather than living in the story playing in her own mind.

A story involving Eve’s hand trailing higher up her leg and higher still, her dark eyes locking with Villanelle’s while her fingers delicately skim the soft skin inside Villanelle’s calves, her knees, her inner thighs, before reaching where it’s warmer, making Villanelle’s lashes flutter behind heavy lids, making Villanelle sit up and twist her hands in Eve’s thick curls, bringing her forward to crash her lips against her own, smothering Eve’s moan with a kiss so desperate, so perfect, so-

And then Eve’s fingertip really does move higher, maybe by a millimetre, a centimetre max, but it might as well be dragging Villanelle’s panties down her legs if the way her chest tightens and her fingers flex are anything to go by.

And Villanelle can’t tell which way that coin is going to land.

So she sits up, feigning a stretch, not wanting to make Eve think she’s done something wrong but desperately needing to move her ankles away from Eve’s gentle fingers because holy shit.

She stretches her legs a little but leaves them on Eve’s lap, watching Eve’s face carefully for any sign of rejection that Villanelle really doesn’t want to cause. She wiggles her feet again happily, trying to make it seem like she really was just stretching, and it seems to work. 

Eve blinks herself out of the daze she seemed to be under, and she clears her throat before turning to look at Villanelle and smiling a little.

“Jeez, I’m tired. I think I’m gonna head back to mine.”

Villanelle nods, her own small smile in place, heart and mind already relaxing without the maddening and blissful touch of Eve’s fingers to fog it up with fantasies. 

“Me too.” Villanelle agrees with a genuine yawn, rubbing her face before smiling again. “Maybe we could watch the rest tomorrow? Or next week, or whenever you are free.”

Eve smiles wider, and Villanelle feels a sense of relief that Eve too seems to be coming back to herself.

“Absolutely.” She nods, then stands and stretches, and the glimpse of skin between her jeans and tee are enough to set Villanelle’s mind buzzing softly again, so she looks up at Eve’s face instead.

“I’ll text you.” Villanelle says, and Eve nods at that and starts to make her way to the door. Villanelle jumps up to follow, grabbing the keys off the coffee table as they go. 

Eve throws her a smile over her shoulder. 

“I have more plant jokes, you know. I’ve been googling.”

“Well I cannot wait to hear them, daddy.”

“Jesus never mind.”

——

It’s not as easy to push her earlier desires away as she’s lying in her own bed, staring up at the twinkling lights above her.

And by that she means she doesn’t want to push them away.

Villanelle may well be controlling herself around Eve, but she sees no reason to control herself when she’s alone.

Her mind picks up where it left off with no hesitation, and Villanelle sinks further into her sheets as she lets the thoughts take her fully this time, her fingers slowly drifting down to toy with the waistband of her shorts.

Eve’s fingers dancing their way up her thighs, both pretending to watch the movie while knowing the effect they’re having on each other. Villanelle’s thighs dropping open slightly, giving Eve the room to trail her hand higher which she does, her breathing growing quick to match Villanelle’s own. Villanelle sitting up, shifting closer, climbing into Eve’s lap and straddling her, encouraging the hand higher between her thighs with a gentle but insistent rocking of her hips, hands going to Eve’s hair and fingers twisting just on the right side of too tight. Eve’s dark eyes dropping to Villanelle’s lips as her fingertips start to trail over damp lace, and Villanelle rocking her hips faster, harder, a moan on the tip of her tongue as Eve teases her and tugs the lace aside and, and-

Villanelle doesn’t control herself when she’s alone, and she only half hopes Eve has closed her bedroom window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The birds and yeti the cat story is a completely true tale from my best friend’s childhood, and it’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard.


	9. Fever Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my fave chapter so far! Also it contains spoilers for the movie Midsommar! Soz! Also thank you to Berry and Berry’s pal for helping me on the star sign front (not sure I wrote it out right but you’ll all get the idea)!

Eve is going to put ‘touching someone’s ankle’ near the top of her mental list of the most erotic things in the entire world, followed by ‘(not a foot fetish)’ underlined, because even though this is a private mental list, she still needs to be clear.

Not that she’s kink shaming, it’s just not for her.

Jesus, anyway.

All she’d wanted to do was touch Villanelle in some way. After almost an hour of her feet resting on her lap, after almost an hour of enjoying the warm weight of her, after almost an hour of stolen glances at impossibly long legs ending in peony printed silk shorts, Eve had given in to the slow but steady building desire to just… touch Villanelle. 

She thought it would be innocent, just a simple touch of her hands against Villanelle’s ankles to satisfy the want for literally any kind of skin on skin contact. What she hadn't expected was the buzz of a spark the second her palms settled on soft skin. 

She felt it like a current, shooting up her arms and sizzling nerve endings in its wake. 

She almost pulled her hands away but found she couldn’t, as if the current was holding her in place, keeping them linked with invisible ribbons of electricity. 

But she didn’t want to move her hands anyway, and Villanelle didn’t seem too phased at first glance. So, Eve kept her hands there and allowed herself to indulge in the warm touch. 

Fifteen minutes passed with Eve’s palms tingling against Villanelle’s skin before she chanced another glance at the woman, tilting her head only slightly and sliding her eyes to their corners. 

Eve caught her just in time to see her blow out a slow and steady breath. 

She thinks… she  _ hopes _ it’s because Villanelle feels the sparks too. 

Eve decided to use it as a learning opportunity, a way to gain a little more understanding, maybe gather some data on how Villanelle works and reacts to things. Reacts to Eve. 

Slowly, slowly, Eve started to run her fingertip along Villanelle’s ankle, and she swears she felt the muscles beneath her fingers tense for a second or two. She took another quick look and felt her stomach tighten pleasantly at the sight of Villanelle’s eyes sliding closed, clearly affected by the tiny movements. 

Eve had looked back at the TV then, determined not to be caught staring should Villanelle turn to look at her, not wanting to do anything to interrupt the moment unfolding around them. She doesn’t watch the movie, content instead to stare in the direction of it while letting her mind wander over the delicious tingling in her palms and fingertips and Villanelle’s smooth, warm skin. 

And okay, maybe she shouldn’t have been doing it, but honestly? Pretending to herself that she isn’t attracted to Villanelle again is a waste of mental energy.

And it’s not a big deal anyway. Villanelle is a very, very attractive woman. Beautiful. The stuff of paintings and catwalks and whatever else features the kind of women people would die for. She’s funny too, all dry wit one moment and teasing mischief the next, an exciting and unpredictable blend of humour that has had her laughing countless times over the last few days. And god, she’s smart. Her knowledge doesn’t end at biology and languages; Villanelle knows art, music, history and geography, she follows what’s happening in politics and has opinions on various philosophical theories and knows about the constellations and the stars. 

Apparently Eve is a Capricorn sun with a Scorpio moon, whatever that means. Villanelle had nodded knowingly and mumbled ‘workaholic, obsessive’ under her breath, and refused to explain what that meant even after Eve had started pinching her until Villanelle shrieked through her laughter and hid in the bathroom.

So yeah, Eve wants Villanelle. 

But she has self control. 

Stroking fingertips across Villanelle’s legs, seeing the effect it was having on the woman, may not appear under what is considered ‘self control’, but whatever. Seeing Villanelle react to  _ Eve _ , react to her soft and innocent touch with a heavy exhale, react to her delicate movements with eyelids fluttering closed, had just been… 

The first thing Eve did once back in her own apartment was take a long, cold shower. 

——

They don’t go back to how they used to be before the fire. 

Not that Eve expected they would. She knew something had changed. 

Their friendship was instantly a good one, both delighting in the other’s quirks and traits. Eve constantly found Villanelle’s knack for pulling an innuendo or flirtatious comment out of thin air impressive and hilarious, while Villanelle would throw her head back and laugh at every quick, sarcastic line delivered by Eve’s sharp tongue. 

Movie nights became their thing, much to Elena’s amusement. 

“Wanna hang out later?”

“Can’t, sorry Elena, watching Psycho tonight with V.”

“Oh my god, babe, you’re over hers like every other night!”

“Not true! ...Sometimes she comes to mine instead.”

“Wow.”

They happened around four times a week, which really isn’t a lot if you think about the fact that they’re neighbours who each live alone and enjoy the company of others. It makes sense to hang out together a lot, seeing as they’re already only 30 seconds away from each other. 

So they have their movie nights, sometimes four nights, sometimes more nights, and they take turns in choosing what they watch. And they sit together on the sofa, and they have snacks or dinner or wine, and they don’t acknowledge the fact that one of them always manages to initiate some kind of contact with the other. 

If it’s not feet on a soft lap (always Villanelle), then it’s toes tucked under warm legs (always Eve), and if it’s neither of those then it’s a back leaning against an arm and shoulder, propped up and facing away but the firm contact still there (both of them in turn). 

These positions, these casual positions, would look like your standard friendship to an outsider. 

But to Eve, these positions are just fuel to her fire. And as she watches Villanelle, studies her, she thinks that maybe Villanelle has a fire being fuelled too. 

It makes Eve’s self control a lot harder to… well, control. 

——

It’s Monday, which means Eve has the full day off and Villanelle has the afternoon off. They don’t usually hang out during this time, both busy with admin or other friends etc, and so Eve sets herself up at her new desk to get on with some emails despite not needing to work. She likes to stay on top of things. 

She’s interrupted by a knock, and before she can ask who it is Villanelle has pushed her way through and is moving towards Eve, smile on her face and coffees in her hands. 

“We are going out.”

“Who’s we? Got a mouse in your pocket?”

“English sayings are so strange.” Villanelle says curiously before smiling again. “But really, let’s go do something.”

Eve takes off her glasses and folds them, dropping them to her desk as she pushes her chair back to stretch her legs out. 

“I can’t.” Eve replies. “I want to organise my calendar, get clients booked in.”

Villanelle puts one coffee cup down on Eve’s desk and puts the free hand on her hip, eyebrow quirked. 

“I thought you were booked up for months.”

“I am.” Eve shrugs with a grin. “I’m sorting out my clients for three months from now.”

She starts to slide her chair back in but Villanelle is too quick, rushing towards her and grabbing the back with her hand. 

“It is your day off, Eve,” Villanelle says with a little whine. “You must give yourself a break!”

“I  _ do _ ,” says Eve, staring up at Villenelle’s face while trying to wiggle the chair out of her grasp. “I watch movies with you.”

“Well then let’s go watch a movie!”

“Villanelle, it’s 1:30 in the afternoon.”

Villanelle looks perplexed by Eve’s statement. 

“And?”

Eve should’ve known better than to apply normal rules to Villanelle and her movie habits. 

“Fine, okay, let’s go to the cinema.” Eve relents, shrugging heavily in a show of frustration but unable to hide her smile. “But you’re buying me popcorn for dragging me out against my will.”

“Okay.” Villanelle chirps while heading back to the door. “Shall we see Midsommar?”

Eve pauses in pulling on her leather jacket. 

“Isn’t that the creepy one?”

“Yes,” Villanelle replies slowly, casting a glance back at Eve as they walk through the studio. “Is that okay?”

“Yep. Sure. That’s fine.”

Villanelle stops Eve before they step through the front door. 

“Do you not like scary films?”

“I do.”

“She bloody doesn’t.”

Both Eve and Villanelle spin around at Elena’s amused voice reaching them over the sound of her buzzing tattoo gun.

“She  _ doesn’t _ ?” 

Eve rolls her eyes at the excited tone in Villanelle’s voice, then turns to head out. 

“I do. It’s just… gore creeps me out a bit.”

“You are a tattoo artist, you make people bleed for a living.” Villanelle says, still sounded delighted. Eve scoffs and holds the door open. 

“That’s different, that’s art.

“And movies aren’t art?” Villanelle smirks as Eve purses her lips in defeat. “Exactly. Now let’s go, I read a review saying this movie is basically a horror film about the world’s worst boyfriend, and a lesson on why scoop neck tees on men are a red flag.”

—— 

Midsommar was, to put it lightly, disturbing. 

“That was amazing.” Villanelle gushes, grabbing at Eve’s arm excitedly. “It was so beautiful, and the shots were so clever, and the story, and the costumes, and the ending was so good, it was-”

“Okay Vil, I get it,” Eve chuckles, the sunlight outside helping to remove some of the lingering ick from her mind. “You liked it. Deep breaths.”

Villanelle turns on Eve then.

“And you?” She says hopefully. “Did you like it?”

Eve considers the question.

The movie was smart, and the lead actress was great, and it really was beautiful like Villanelle said. Obviously that didn’t take away from all the screaming and blood and ritualistic sacrifices, but even those moments had their upsides.

Those upsides being, when Eve instinctively buried her face in Villanelle’s side in fear, Villanelle throwing an arm around her and holding her close, chuckling quietly at Eve’s frightened squeaks while squeezing her closer whenever something particularly gross happened.

So Eve had spent a lot of time curled up against Villanelle watching the movie through the fingers of one hand, the other fisting Villanelle’s white t-shirt and refusing to let go, even at Villanelle’s quiet ‘you are going to stretch my top’. 

And Eve didn’t even do this stuff on purpose, it was all automatic, all on autopilot the second the old lady jumped off the cliff and not ending until the credits started rolling.

But still, just because it wasn’t on purpose didn’t mean Eve couldn’t enjoy it a little. 

Villanelle smelt of her vanilla and orange blossom moisturiser, plus something floral settled deep in the fabric of her tee. Eve could feel the warmth of her skin through the clothing pressed against her cheek, comforting and steady, while the hand on her shoulder rested gently, sometimes trailing fingers down to Eve’s upper arm, sometimes gripping tight as some other insane thing happened on screen.

So yeah, the film had been disturbing. But if a disturbing movie meant a completely legitimate excuse to tightly curl into Villanelle then sign her the fuck up to a horror movie club, or whatever else would mean they could do this more often without Eve feeling like she’s taking advantage of the situation.

All in all, Eve has never been so thankful to be freaked out by scary movies.

“I liked it,” Eve says, smiling at how Villanelle’s face goes from hopeful to happy. “I could have done without that woman’s face flapping open or the dude’s leg snapping upwards, but overall, yeah. It was good.”

“Which was your favourite part?” Villanelle said excitedly as they started the twenty minute walk back to their homes. 

Eve only then noticed that Villanelle’s hand was still holding her arm, so she moved her own slightly, giving Villanelle the hint to slide it down and link their arms together. Villanelle gave an appreciative squeeze and Eve bit her lips together to contain her growing smile.

“Uh,” Eve says, squinting her eyes a little while thinking. “The ending, I think. Yeah, I liked how in the end she found her family. She found a place to belong.”

“By ordering that her boyfriend be burned alive.” Villanelle says, staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah, but like…” Eve trails off, then shrugs, “He deserved it.”

And then Villanelle is squeezing her arm tighter and dragging her into her side, grin on her face as she looks at Eve.

“That was my favourite part too.” Villanelle says happily. “And the bear dissection bit, I liked that.”

Eve laughs and jostles Villanelle a little as they walk, arm in arm.

“Of course you did.”

——

“Polastri.” 

“Hmm?” Eve is staring at the tv, The Other Woman playing per her request, her toes tucked underneath Villanelle who lounges next to her on the couch. 

“I saw it on your card earlier. I have never heard that name before. Where is it from?”

“It’s polish.” Eve replies, glancing away from the screen to Villanelle who is looking at her with gentle curiosity, glass of white wine in her hand. “My ex-husband is from there.”

Eve jumps as Villanelle sprays the wine she’d been sipping over herself. She reaches out to hurriedly grab the glass out of Villanelle’s hand as she coughs. 

“You were  _ married _ ?”

Eve feels the ‘to a man?’ hang in the air, unspoken. 

“Yeah, I was. For a little while.”

“Oh.”

Villanelle looks a little confused, but Eve smiles in anticipation of how Villanelle might react next.

“Almost married a woman once, too.”

“What?!”

And Eve laughs, any shade of regret on Villanelle’s face gone the instant Eve had finished speaking, leaving only surprise and a glimmer of something else shining in hazel eyes. 

“Mmhmm,” Eve hums, smiling and handing Villanelle’s glass back to her. “Ashley, my girlfriend from university. We got engaged just after graduation but called it off not long after. We realised there was still too much we wanted to do. We’re still friends on facebook, actually.”

“Huh.”

It’s not often that Villanelle is speechless, and Eve can’t help but grin and revel in being the cause of it. 

“Surprised?”

“I mean, yes.” Villanelle says before taking a sip of wine. “I did not expect you to be divorced.”

“Well, I am. Divorcee, right here.” Eve says, sipping her own wine. “All of that before the grand old age of 30.”

“You were young?”

“Probably the age you are now?” Eve says, scrunching up her face as she tries to remember. “I was about 25 when Niko and I got married, and we split when I was 29. Just before I bought this place, actually. I think it kick started a drive in me that I’d been missing for a few years.” 

Villanelle starts to turn her body to face her, so Eve moves her legs and tucks her knees under her chin as Villanelle tucks her own to the side. Long fingers run up and down the stem of her wine glass and Eve spares a moment to watch the slow trail. 

“I’m gonna go ahead and assume Astankova is just a standard Russian name?”

Villanelle clutches her chest with her free hand, throwing Eve an affronted look. 

“How dare you, it means ‘assassin’, I come from a very powerful family, we are feared by all.”

Eve’s eyes widen. 

“Really?” She says with interest, shuffling closer to Villanelle. 

“No.” She replies, and Eve drops her head with a chuckle. “It is just a name. My parents are bankers.”

When Eve looks back up, Villanelle is smiling at her softly. With all of their rearranging, there’s not much space between them now.

“I like knowing things about you.” Villanelle says quietly, reaching with her free hand slowly to the hand Eve has wrapped around her own calf. Sparks fizzle as Eve feels fingertips gently touch her knuckles. “I do not know many people well. I do not usually like to. But, I like knowing you.”

It’s so sweet and strange, Villanelle’s statement, that Eve slides her hand off her leg without thinking, and gently takes Villanelle’s fingers in her own. 

It’s not until she registers the warmth of Villanelle’s fingers linked with her own that Eve even realises she’s taken hold of the woman’s hand. 

Who knew just holding a hand could feel so heavenly. 

Eve smiles at Villanelle who is staring at their linked hands almost in surprise. She glances back up with bright eyes. Eve smiles and leans forward like she’s sharing a huge secret. 

“I like knowing you too.”

It’s quiet, bar the movie in the background, but Eve can barely hear it over the thoughts in her own head. She wants to tug on the hand, pull Villanelle closer, feel warm puffs of air on her lips as they wait to see who’ll give in first. 

So she does. She tugs, just a little, lightly enough to deny it if she needs to but enough that Villanelle feels the pull on her own fingers. Villanelle sways the tiniest bit forward and she looks dazed, and it makes Eve feel wild. This gorgeous, intimidating woman looking like  _ that _ because of Eve? It’s enough to make her tug a second time. 

And when Villanelle’s eyes drop to her lips, Eve can only hear the soft thud of her own heartbeat, can only feel the warmth heavy in her hand and the anticipatory tingling in her lips. 

A third tug. 

A small hitch of breath. 

A small movement to close more of the distance.

A jarring crash from outside. 

Eve falls off the sofa in shock. 

“What the fuck?” She barks, pushing herself off the floor and wincing a little at the pain in her knee. She rushes to the window to stare out, seeing none other than Hugo stumbling in the alleyway. “Hugo what the  _ fuck _ are you doing down there?”

He’s clearly drunk as he spins on the spot trying to find Eve’s voice. He finally looks up and sees her, grinning wide and waving. 

“Hey!” He calls up, and Eve feels Villanelle come to stand beside her, long dark blonde hair swinging as she sticks her head out too. “And Villanelle! What’s up girl!”

“Hugo, you are ruining the movie.” Villanelle says with an edge to her voice that Eve completely understands. “Go away.”

“Well I am trying,” the man says, “but my phone is dead and I need an Uber, a young man like myself shouldn’t walk home alone at this time, it’s not safe.”

“It’s not even ten pm!” Eve says exasperatedly. “Why are you here?”

“Because you are the hero I need, Eve.” He says in what she guesses is supposed to be an imploring tone. “And also because the pub is  _ just _ over there. Please call this charming, handsome man a taxi so he can get home and sleep, ready for his shift of putting holes in people tomorrow.”

“Jesus Christ.” Eve mumbles to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll call you an Uber, but you’re not coming in to wait. And if you’re hungover tomorrow you’re fired.”

“Hugo doesn’t get hungover,” he calls up at her, “Hugo is youthful and nubile and immune to that shit!” 

“Oh my god, we’re going now, just be quiet and wait for your damn taxi.”

And with that, Eve pulls her head back inside with Villanelle closely following who then slides the window down with a slam. 

“Eve, I do not like Hugo.”

“Me neither, Vil. Me neither.”

——

Villanelle leaves soon after that, and Eve doesn’t blame her. The moment, if it had been a moment and not just some lust filled fever dream Eve had on the couch, was over. There was still a tension in the air, a warm buzz of energy as the women moved around each other to clean up their drinks and snacks, but they ignored it. 

It wasn’t awkward, much to Eve’s relief, but they did act as if nothing had happened. Villanelle was back to her usual self, making jokes and laughing at Eve’s plans to murder her piercing expert, even dragging Eve into her usual goodbye hug as she left. 

Eve felt Villanelle linger during the hug, her face buried in Eve’s curls, and Eve couldn’t help her eyelashes fluttering lightly at the feeling of Villanelle’s breath tickling the side of her neck. 

But then it was over, and Villanelle headed down to let herself out of Eve’s building, taking the key with her to lock up behind herself before pushing the key through Eve’s letterbox. 

And Eve stands in silence for a moment, in the middle of her living room, breathing steadily in the quiet. 

The quiet which is disturbed by a yelp from outside. 

“Eve! Ow, fuck, Eve, she kicked me!”

Eve smiles as she heads into her room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classic Hugo getting in the way am I right???? Although I do actually think Hugo’s character was important in the show. Side note, Midsommar is a cracking film, I recommend it, apparently most women are like ‘yeah right on’ at the end whereas straight men were uncomfortable, soo... But it is gory as hell. And so much nudity.


	10. Preschooler’s Art Project

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if the worst part of getting a tattoo is when they clean it at the end.

Eve tried to kiss her. Villanelle is sure of it. 

And if she didn’t then Eve needs to work on her social behaviour, because gently tugging someone in your direction while staring into their eyes is not really the sort of thing people do during casual conversation. Maybe it’s an American thing. 

So Eve had tried to kiss her while they sat on Eve’s couch, and Villanelle had wanted to kiss her too. Still wants to kiss her. Would really, really like to kiss her. 

But that goes against the self restraint Villanelle is trying to keep up, it is the proverbial cannon ball into her defensive wall. 

And okay, dropping her eyes to Eve’s lips and leaning forward as she pictured kissing her cupid’s bow wasn’t exactly a good example of self restraint, but that is not important. What is important is that they didn’t kiss, and Villanelle is somewhat proud of herself. 

Proud, and thoroughly disappointed. 

Very, very disappointed. 

And still a little turned on, hours later, lying in bed. 

Self restraint really isn’t what she thought it would be. No wonder she’s never tried it before. 

Villanelle feels something teetering in her mind, like she’s balancing on a rope while taking careful steps forward. One side of the fall is soft and green but empty, lonely, boring. The other side is a long drop and she can’t see what’s at the bottom, but there’s nothing to suggest if it’s good or bad. It could be either. 

Thoughts blow like a breeze and disrupt her balancing act, and she knows she has to choose a side. She’s not the type to balance for this long anyway. She’s a decision maker. She hates the ifs and buts of being in between. This really isn’t like her. This is  _ boring _ . 

Villanelle is not the type to balance for this long, so she chooses a way to fall. 

She chooses how to move forward when it comes to Eve. 

It’s a long drop. She hopes she finds something good at the bottom of it. 

She has always been a risk taker, and so for now, she’ll enjoy the fall. 

——

Villanelle: Want to hang out?

Villanelle: You can come here? I made snacks

Villanelle: Eve why are you ignoring me

Villanelle: Eve

Villanelle: Evie

_ Eve: Nope, still not okay with Evie. _

Villanelle: You are alive! Thank god, I would have nothing to do

_ Eve: Ha, shut up. _

_ Eve: I can’t hang out, I’m in the zone. Drawing stuff.  _

Villanelle: But it is after work?

_ Eve: My kitchen burned down, remember? All of my designs were destroyed. I’ve got to get more flash drawn. _

Villanelle: I can help

_ Eve: How? _

Villanelle: By taking you out for a drink!

Villanelle: You need to relax, you’ve been at it every evening this week. We still haven’t watched the second Bourne movie.

_ Eve: I know, I’m sorry, I just have to get some done. _

Villanelle: And you will! 

Villanelle: But tonight you are going for a drink

Villanelle: So that you don’t burn out like your kitchen did

_ Eve: Fuck you! _

Villanelle: Too soon?

_ Eve: Yes. _

_ Eve: I’ll be ready in ten, take me somewhere fancy. _

Villanelle: The fanciest!

Tossing her phone on the bed, Villanelle quickly checks herself in the mirror. Her mid length, floating leopard print skirt shows off her calves, a black loose-fit tank top tucked in at the waist flattering her figure. Her hair is down and tousled, deliberately effortless, while her light make up helps frame her hazel eyes.

She gives herself a smirk and shimmies her shoulders. She looks gorgeous as always, and there’s no way Eve won’t think so too.

Villanelle loses focus and stares through the mirror without seeing, imagining Eve admiring her legs in the skirt. Maybe Eve will sit close to her at the bar, maybe her hand will gently brush against her thigh while telling another bad tattoo story. Maybe she’ll lean in, touch the back of Villanelle’s hand where it rests on her glass, run a fingertip over her knuckles gently, slowly. 

Villanelle blinks herself back into reality and shakes her head at herself in the mirror.

When did she become so affected by the thought of these tiny, little touches? They did something to her when done by Eve. No one else has ever stirred up these sensations before with barely-there touches and lingering looks.  _ Villanelle _ was the stirrer. She was the one creating reactions, not the other way around. 

With every new touch, every new inch of innocent skin brushed with delicate fingers, Villanelle felt another lit match fall into the depths of her, joining the fire already burning, already building in size and heat.

With every new touch, a new fantasy came alive in Villanelle’s mind, sparked by something small but growing into something big, reaching a fever pitch, igniting Villanelle from the inside out with nothing to put out the flames but her  _ own _ touch, her own frenzied fingers, her own wet heat.

But she’s learning that you can’t fight fire with fire. Sooner or later, something has to give to either put the fire out or let it engulf her.

She clears her throat to chase away the embers starting to flicker, and winks at herself. 

Time to go. 

——

Eve is standing outside Original Sin, tapping away on her phone, and Villanelle is glad for the other woman’s momentary distraction because it gives her the chance to just drink Eve in. 

Eve’s usual skinny jeans sit tight on her legs, but instead of sneakers the woman is wearing polished black brogue flats, reflecting the light of the street lamp above her. On her top half Eve wears a silky looking khaki shirt tucked into the jeans, a few buttons undone at the top drawing Villanelle’s eyes to her sharp collar bones. A black blazer finishes the look, sleeves rolled up to the elbows in a way that Villanelle knows isn’t a conscious decision on Eve’s part, but done for practicality without realising just how  _ good _ it looks, showing off her tattooed forearms. 

And Eve’s hair. It was curly, but it looked like Eve had run some product through it, something that tamed the curls a little, made them look sleek and shiny without losing their bounce. 

Villanelle holds a breath and lets it out slowly, eyes dragging lazily over Eve’s body before she clears her throat and flashes her trademark smirk. 

“Maybe ‘daddy’ was not such a far fetched nickname after all.”

Eve starts at Villanelle’s voice but softens quickly, although soon frowns at Villanelle’s line. 

“I will turn around and go back inside, I swear to god.”

“Okay, I am sorry, no more d word.” Villanelle puts her hands up in surrender. She reaches Eve and holds an arm out for her to take. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Says Eve through a smile, linking arms with Villanelle then walking beside her. “Where are we going?”

“Vasiliev’s.” Villanelle supplies, then Eve stops walking suddenly and Villanelle is jerked back. She gives Eve a baffled stare. “Ouch, what?”

“I was joking when I said fancy,” Eve says, reluctantly moving again when Villanelle starts dragging her forward. “I can’t afford that place.”

“Well, lucky for you, you won’t be buying your drinks.”

“No no, Villanelle I don’t want you to pay for me, I won’t-”

Villanelle’s scoff interrupts her. 

“Oh, I will not be paying.” She chuckles. “You think I am made of money? I am a florist, Eve.”

“Then how do you afford all your designer clothes?”

Villanelle turns to look at Eve and smirks. 

“You have noticed my clothes?”

“Everyone notices,” Eve says with an eye roll. “Have you seen you?”

Eve seems to realise what she’s said because she clamps her mouth shut fast, but it’s too late. Villanelle feels excitement bubbling inside her at the knowledge that Eve thinks she’s attractive and well dressed. She feels like she’s glowing. 

“Thank you.” She says, smug voice in place to make Eve a little more comfortable. It works, and Eve shakes her head with a small laugh. Villanelle continues, “but how I afford my clothes is a story for another time.” 

Eve narrows her eyes at that, peering at Villanelle suspiciously, but she just smiles sweetly in return. 

“Anyway, you won’t be buying your drinks and neither will I.” Villanelle stops at the door to the bar. “After you.”

Eve doesn’t seem to realise they’ve arrived, because she continues to stare at Villanelle for a moment until noticing that Villanelle is holding a door open. 

“Oh. Thanks.” Eve says, heading inside, Villanelle following with a wide smile already in place. 

They’re barely five steps inside the dark and luxurious looking bar before a booming laugh reaches them. 

“Villanelle!”

Eve spins to look at her, confusion painted across her features. 

“You know him?” She says quietly as a large man with salt and pepper hair walks towards them, arms outstretched. 

“Nope.” Villanelle replies, popping the p, before grinning at the man. “Never met him.”

“Never met me?” The man says, and then Villanelle feels herself being lifted off the ground and spun around. She yelps and starts hitting his wide back, but can’t help but laugh at the comforting grip of her old friend. “Well, if we’ve never met then I’ll take that investment back, hmm?”

“I paid that back years ago,” Villanelle tells the man once he’s put her back down. “Do not start making up debt.”

“I know, I know.” He chuckles, still grinning at her. “I just miss having something to blackmail you with.”

Villanelle watches him turn to Eve, giving her a quick up and down before holding out a large hand. 

“Hello, I am Konstantin,” he says, shaking the hand Eve puts in his. “Your rude friend doesn’t seem to want to introduce us.”

“Eve, Konstantin, Konstantin, Eve.” Villanelle says, flapping a hand between them. “Now please, Konstantin, we are thirsty.”

Konstantin starts heading to the main bar area, beckoning them over with a hand. 

“And I suppose you will not be paying for your drinks again tonight?”

Villanelle scoffs as she slides onto a velvet barstool, throwing Eve a quick smile as she sits on the one beside her. 

“You are so silly today, Konstantin.” Villanelle says. “I will have a gin martini.”

But Konstantin had already started reaching for a martini glass, giving Villanelle a knowing smile. He glances at Eve with a raised eyebrow. 

“Let me guess.” He says, reaching for the vermouth for Villanelle’s drink. “I will make the perfect drink for you, Eve.”

The older woman looks a little impressed, much to Villanelle’s delight, and settles comfortably on the barstool. 

“So how do you two know each other.”

Villanelle looks to Konstantin who is busy making drinks, then turns to Eve with a smirk. 

“This place would not be nearly as popular without me.”

That booming laugh comes from somewhere below the bar. 

“You built a rooftop garden, rostok,” Konstantin says as he stands back up, bottle of bitters in hand. 

“The best rooftop garden you have ever  _ seen _ , dyadya.”

He waves a hand at her in fond dismissal and Villanelle rolls her eyes before looking back at Eve. 

“I built his rooftop garden back when I did landscaping work. We got talking pretty much immediately, due to the shared homeland thing.” Villanelle says with a shrug, flashing a smile at Konstantin as he slides her the martini. “He helped me get my business started, and we have been best friends ever since.”

“Best friends do not drink entire bottles of gin without paying.” 

“Yes they do.” Villanelle replies innocently, before turning to watch Eve as she accepts her tumblr of amber liquid from Konstantin. “What did you make her?”

“Old fashioned but with a summer twist.” He rubs his hands on a towel as he studies Eve, who sniffs at the drink before smiling. “Whisky and ice, but with fresh peach muddled into the bitters instead of sugar, and a splash of simple syrup.”

Eve takes a sip, and immediately her eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, this is delicious.”

Konstantin gives her a confident shrug as Villanelle grins proudly. 

“And it’s all free!”

“One of these days you will have to pay your five year tab, Villanelle.”

“And today is not that day.” She says happily before lifting her glass towards the others. “Cheers!”

——

“Eve, Eve come here. Let me tell you how much I love you.”

Eve grins at her drunkenly and pushes herself away from the outside wall of the bar and straight into Villanelle, arms immediately wrapping around her neck as she smiles up at her. 

“I’m here, tell me.”

Villanelle staggers a little under Eve’s forceful grip, but rights herself and wraps one arm around her waist. The other she reaches up to boop Eve on the nose. 

“So much.” Villanelle smiles at Eve’s laugh before wrapping her free arm around her back. “You are my best friend.”

“I thought Konstantin was your best friend.” Eve frowns with a slight pout, and Villanelle squeezes her. 

“He is my best man friend. You are my best lady friend.”

“I am your best lady.” Eve grins, squinting at Villanelle through drunk eyes. “You are my best lady too.”

Villanelle squeezes her again and then gasps as a thought strikes her. 

“Eve,” she whispers, excited. “I have had an amazing idea. It will show everyone we are best friends forever.”

“What’s that?”

Villanelle starts walking them backwards, grinning as they stumble a little. 

“We should get matching tattoos.”

Eve stops them from walking and shoots an amused look at Villanelle. 

“You want your first tattoo to be a drunk one?” She says, all humoured suspicion. “And you actually think someone will tattoo us in this state anyway?”

“Eve, don’t be silly!” Villanelle laughs drunkenly, finally letting go of her and grabbing one of her hands as it slides off her neck. “We will do them!”

Eve chuckles as she allows Villanelle to drag her to the door of the studio. 

“I am not tattooing you while I’m drunk.” Eve says, shaking her head with a smile. “It goes against all I’ve been taught. And also the law.”

“Well then,” Villanelle says, turning on the doorstop to flash Eve a somewhat manic grin. “I guess I will just have to give  _ you _ a tattoo.”

——

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

“Me neither.” Eve says from her sitting position on her own tattooing bed. “Pass me the tequila.

Villanelle hands her the small liquor bottle they’ve been passing back and forth as Eve set up what they needed. Villanelle presses her foot down on the pedal and giggles at the gun buzzing in her hand. 

“Okay, so you remember what I said?” Eve says after taking another gulp and wincing. “Slow and steady, don’t press too hard on my skin or the pedal, and follow your pen lines as best you can.”

“Mmm no,” Villanelle slurs, shaking her head while focusing on the needles fixed to the gun. “I will be free styling.”

Eve just stares at Villanelle for a second, face blank, before taking another shot from the bottle. 

“Fuck it, let’s go.”

Villanelle giggles again darkly, and then wipes the outside of Eve’s right ankle with one of the wipes handed to her. She positions herself with the needle just over Eve’s skin. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yep, do it.”

“Okay.” 

Villanelle presses her foot down and touches the needle to Eve’s skin. 

The hiss from Eve’s mouth startles her a little, but she does her best not to jump. 

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s a bunch of sharp needles stabbing in and out of my skin, sweetheart.”

Villanelle tried to focus on her hand around the gun and not on the flutter in her chest at the casual nickname, bitten through Eve’s clenched teeth. 

“Okay, I will now begin my masterpiece.”

Villanelle tries to work carefully, she really does. And to be honest, once she’s finished, she thinks it looks pretty good. 

“Vil, what is that supposed to be, exactly?” 

Villanelle pauses and looks up at Eve with wide eyes, who is staring at her own leg in curious concern, the bottle clenched tightly in her fist. 

“It is an apple, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Eve mumbles thoughtfully. “Okay. Let me get down now.”

Villanelle scoffs and uses her free hand to push on Eve’s shoulder. 

“We are not finished yet.” She says with a smile. “I have two more to do.”

“Two more?” Eve says with a strange laugh. “Vil, I don’t-”

“Do not interrupt an artist while they are working!” Villanelle says loudly as she presses her foot down again, bringing the gun back to life. “Sit still.”

“Memories of your stick drawings are coming back to me.” Eve says, but there’s a chuckle in her voice that makes Villanelle smile as she tries to carefully draw a straight line. 

Villanelle isn’t surprised that Eve only lets out a few hisses and grunts, and she’s grinning proudly when she finally places the gun down. 

“They are finished!” She says with an excited clap. “I am pretty good at this, maybe I should be a tattoo artist too.”

Eve is quiet as she stares at her ankle, and then she lifts her head to look at Villanelle in exasperation. 

“Please explain.”

“This is an apple, like the one that was used to tempt Eve in the Garden of Eden.” Villanelle says, carefully tracing a finger around the shape before moving on. “This is a rose, because… well, because I like roses.”

Eve scoffs out a laugh at that, and Villanelle smiles up at her briefly before continuing to the final tattoo. 

“And this is a snake.” Villanelle says quietly, fingertip running down the length of its body. “The one who encouraged Eve to be bad. The beast that tempted her.” 

Villanelle is staring back up at  _ her _ Eve as she finishes her explanation, Eve’s own dark gaze staring back. Their eyes locked, Villanelle continues to run her fingertips across the raised skin of the ankle under her touch, mind spinning a little from drink and from Eve, waiting for the woman to say something, anything. 

“Villanelle.” Eve says, voice low and quiet and echoing deep in Villanelle. 

“Mm?” She hums back as her gaze drops to Eve’s lips, that echo thrumming deeper and lower as she sees Eve’s tongue quickly swipe over her bottom lip. 

Villanelle’s other fingers dig into the plush cushion of the bed Eve is sat on, ready to push herself up and into Eve, to take that pouty bottom lip between her teeth and tug on it, all Eve needs to do is say the word and she’ll be there, she’ll-

“Um…” Eve starts, and Villanelle looks away from her lips at the hesitation in her tone. “Getting drunk was- I mean I don’t think-” Eve sighs and shakes her head with a slightly embarrassed smile, and then points towards the workstation. “Pass me that bottle?”

Villanelle swallows down the heat that had started to climb its way up. She can feel how flushed her cheeks have gotten, how her fingers tremble ever so slightly on Eve’s leg, so she clears her throat and blinks away the flames. 

Villanelle grabs and hands the bottle over and Eve sprays a bit onto her ankle, wincing. 

“I hate this part.” Eve says, grimacing a little. “Can you firmly wipe the spray off for me please? I don’t care what anyone says, it hurts like a bitch, and I can’t do it to myself.”

“Okay.” Villanelle says quietly, grabbing clean tissues. She holds them over the skin and looks at Eve again, gaze holding Eve’s once more. “Ready?”

Eve just nods, and then suddenly her hand reaches out to wrap around the delicate bones of Villanelle’s wrist. 

“Ready.” 

Villanelle doesn’t move her stare from Eve’s own as she drags the tissues over the now bloody skin. Her heart clenches as Eve whimpers in pain, eyes shut tightly. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Villanelle murmurs softly, and she gently removes Eve’s hand from around her wrist to hold in her free one. Eve squeezes it, and Villanelle feels it mirrored around her heart, warm and tight. “It’s okay, solntse.”

Eve blows out a harsh breath and squints opens her eyes as Villanelle finishes wiping the tattoos, then stares at her curiously. 

“What does that mean?” She says, and Villanelle is confused until she realises she must have spoken aloud. She takes a moment to think, finding herself lost in deep brown eyes once again. 

“I will tell you another time.” Villanelle settles on before smiling in a way intended to distract. “So, how do we stop you dying from infection?”

——

Villanelle wakes up the next morning face down in between her pillows. She groans into the sheet squished against her nose, and slowly pushes herself up to roll onto her back. 

Events from the night before swarm her and she groans again. She’ll never understand Eve’s ability to reduce her to this soft… thing, eager for anything,  _ anything _ at all. Villanelle has never met anyone who can do to her what Eve can do with just a simple touch. 

She blinks her eyes open and immediately feels a thump in her head. 

The shared tequila in the studio was a bad choice. 

She rubs at her face before carefully reaching for her phone, peering in confusion at the 7 text notifications from Eve, all received before 8am. 

_ Eve: Holy fucking shit my head _

_ Eve: Holy fucking shit my ANKLE _

_ Eve: Villanelle what the fuck are these supposed to be again?? They look like they were drawn on by a child! _

_ Eve: You know what? This isn’t your fault. I let you do it, I went along with it, this isn’t your fault.  _

_ Eve: Oh for fuck’s sake, why does one look like an ass?? _

_ Eve: You know what, this IS your fault. Bring me a croissant from the bakery and I might forgive you.  _

_ Eve: Jesus Christ Villanelle I look like a preschooler's art project, make it two croissants and a coffee, fuck _

Villanelle smiles wide at the messages, and only grimaces a little as she clambers out of bed to get dressed for the bakery run. 

Maybe being soft is not so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondering what those tattoos look like? That entire scene was inspired by a text convo with Cat (yotoob), and her clever ideas resulted in me sending my own versions of what drunk tattoos by Villanelle would look like. 
> 
> Check my pinned tweet at @fixyfics to see the preschooler art project tattoos in all their glory!


	11. Cassiopeia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipping into a veeery light M here folks. YEP.

Once Eve’s tattoos have healed, and once Elena and Hugo and even Kenny have finished taking the piss out of her new permanent ankle additions, Eve goes swimming. 

Swimming has always been a sort of escape for Eve. She swam on the school team as a kid and then throughout uni as a way to relax, and now as an adult she goes whenever she can find the time, or whenever something particularly frustrating is happening in her life. 

The latter is her reason for the trip to the pool today. 

And it’s not like it’s a bad frustration, it’s just a… frustration. Of sorts. 

Back when Eve and Villanelle first met, Eve’s rules for herself were a little more relaxed. The month that they’d gotten to know each other was so full of flirtatious comments and touches and downright bold innuendos (always from Villanelle), that Eve really hadn’t had a choice back then but to relieve a little of her frustration. The tension would’ve killed her otherwise, or something. 

But it’s different now. Back then, they were strangers that wanted each other. Like, really wanted each other. But they didn’t  _ know _ each other. 

Yes, Eve knew the exact slopes of Villanelle’s cheekbones, and the placement of each freckle and mole that ran along her cheeks and temples. And she knows that Villanelle knew the precise twist of each of Eve’s curls, and the angles of her top lip, if the amount of time Villanelle spent staring at her face and playfully springing her curls was anything to go on. 

Eve knew that Villanelle liked it when Eve was confident. Villanelle knew that Eve liked it whenever Villanelle bit her own lip. They learned these things over that month simply from watching each other and teasing each other, all ‘innocent’ until the end of the month when it wasn’t so innocent anymore. 

Fast forward five years and Eve had learned more about Villanelle as a person within their first few days of friendship than she had over their entire first month of knowing each other. And now that it’s been months, the list has only grown. 

Eve knows that badly decorated cakes make Villanelle laugh almost as hard as Eve’s awful tattoo stories do. Eve knows that the news makes Villanelle annoyed, but bad or lazy service in restaurants makes her honest to god  _ angry _ . She knows that animals dying in films doesn’t make Villanelle sad, but lost love in films makes her eyes well up. Eve knows that Villanelle gets very uncomfortable when her eyes well up, and so Eve knows to pretend she doesn’t see. 

So Eve still knows the exact slopes of Villanelle’s cheekbones, and the placement of each freckle and mole that run along her cheeks and temples. But now, she knows  _ Villanelle _ . 

Eve kicks off the side of the pool hard as she starts her 18th lap, slicing through the water with a learned agile grace, reaching the other end in no time and kicking off again to repeat the motions. 

Eve knows Villanelle, and that makes it  _ different _ , this time. She can’t just store up the teasing and flirtatious comments until she’s alone in her bed, one hand down her pants and the other on her chest, pretending it’s Villanelle from next door swirling her fingers around her clit, pretending it’s Villanelle from next door pinching her nipple tightly. She can’t do that this time around, because there are other things involved now. 

Eve is sure some people would laugh at her if they knew this, Villanelle included. The blonde was clearly an advocate for all things sexual and would see no issue with Eve touching herself to the thoughts of her. In fact, Eve is pretty fucking certain that Villanelle would  _ love _ that, would want a play by play of the events sent to her phone along with photos to help her picture Eve  _ exactly _ , fingers disappearing and head thrown back. 

Eve swims faster. She pushes herself harder and pumps her muscles to their limits, trying to swim away from the desire that is chasing her as she goes. 

She just… she  _ knows _ Villanelle wouldn’t mind. She doesn’t need Villanelle to spell it out for her. 

Villanelle likes sex. She’s made that very clear whenever they chat about that kind of thing, about past relationships and their lifestyles and what not, like friends do. And, Eve is pretty sure that Villanelle likes  _ her.  _

Eve isn’t blind to attraction. She’s felt it from others, aimed at her, numerous times over the years. She knows what it feels like. And even if the evidence from five years ago wasn’t still fresh in her mind, the way Villanelle acts now makes it obvious that she is clearly attracted to her. 

You don’t stare at someone’s lips like they're made of honey without giving that vibe away. 

The touches and the looks and the teasing, it’s not just friendly banter. Villanelle is attracted to Eve and isn’t all that fussed about hiding it, but this time around it’s mixed in with notes of friendship. And… care. 

It’s like before but different. 

Different, different, different. 

God, Eve is fucking sick of that word. 

She kicks off the side again and feels the muscles in her thighs yell at her in discomfort, body begging with her to stop, so she finally does when she reaches the far end. Arms folded on the edge and forehead pressed against the back of her hand, she takes deep breaths before pulling herself out of the water. 

Her legs feel like jelly as she makes her way to the changing room, but at least her frustration levels have dropped. 

A flash of a tall blonde walking past in a bikini launches Eve’s mind straight to thoughts of Villanelle and how she’d look in a bikini, skin wet from the pool and droplets of water clinging to her curled lashes, cheeks flushed from the exertion of exercise, hair slicked back showing off her neck-

Eve can practically hear her muscles start to cry as she groans and turns, heading right back into the pool to swim some more laps. 

——

“You’re doing great, just a little more.”

The man lying face down on Eve’s tattoo bed grunts in reply and clenches his fingers tighter around the edge of the bed. Eve has been working on him for over seven hours now, a huge Korean pagoda in the centre of his back with prowling Siberian tigers below it and Korean magpies above, all surrounded by hibiscus flowers in contrasting pinks compared to the thick black line work of the rest of the tattoo. 

“What’s left?”

“Couple more magpies and you’re done, big guy.” Eve says, concentrating on creating the lines of a wing on his shoulder blade. “Twenty minutes, tops.”

He grunts again but follows it with a relieved sigh at her prediction, and she smiles. These long sessions always remind her of what she loves about her job, the hours of dedicated focus followed by the genuine excitement from customers leaving her feeling completely satisfied. 

She hears the door open but doesn’t look up, wanting to get this guy’s back done as soon as possible what with him clearly starting to struggle. 

“Woah, that’s huge!”

Eve pauses and looks up with a grin at the curling Russian tones. 

“Hey Vil,” she says, looking back down. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she hears Villanelle reply, and then the shadow of the woman falls over the man slightly. “Bored. This is so cool!”

“Thanks.” Eve and the man say at the same time, and Eve chuckles at him. “He’s sat like a rock.”

The man whines but lifts his hand in a thumbs up, face still pressed in the hole in the bed. 

“What is it?”

“Symbols of South Korea.” Eve says, focusing on a new bird. “Pagoda, Siberian tigers, Korean magpies, hibiscus. It’s illegal to get a tattoo in South Korea unless it’s by a trained doctor, but not illegal to actually have tattoos. So my new buddy Ji here is getting this done in London to show his folks back home next time he visits.”

Ji grunts again and Eve gives his arm a gentle pat of support. 

“I’ll be done soonish, V, if you wanted to hang out after?”

Villanelle smiles happily when Eve quickly glances up at her, and nods. 

“Okay!” She chirps, before dragging the chair from Hugo’s corner over to sit beside Eve, who shakes her head at her new audience member. 

“Hello Ji, I am Villanelle.” She says, leaning all the way down so she can look up at his face from under the table. “There is so much blood on your back, you would not  _ believe _ .” 

Eve smacks Villanelle’s shoulder with her free hand as Ji squeaks in fear.

“Oh my- Villanelle, stop it. Ji, you’re fine, it’s the usual amount of blood, you’re okay.” She rounds on the other woman and glares at her, trying to control her growing smile. “If you’re going to be annoying then you can go sit over there until I’m done.”

Villanelle pouts at her and Eve rolls her eyes before turning back to the tattoo underway. 

“Fine.” Villanelle says, and Eve feels her start to wheel herself away on the chair, scooting across the room. “I will talk to Kenny.”

Eve chuckles quietly and starts another bird, ears pricked to follow what she’s certain will be an interesting conversation. 

“Hi Kenny.”

“Um. Hey.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Eve smiles at the following silence. 

“Well, are you having a nice day?”

Only a quiet hum follows, which is punctuated by a bored huff from Villanelle. 

“Are you one of those sensitive and silent types?”

Still no response. 

“You are, aren’t you. You are a listener. No wonder Elena likes you.” 

“ _ What? _ ”

Eve quickly lifts the gun away from Ji’s skin as she splutters out a laugh, looking up to see Kenny’s surprised face and Villanelle’s innocent one. 

“Elena likes you. You knew that though didn't you?”

Kenny shakes his head, face still one of complete shock. 

“Oh.” Villanelle doesn’t look at all guilty, and just grimaces a tiny bit as she shrugs. “Well, now you do.”

Eve laughs again and shakes her head, attracting Villanelle’s attention away from the poor shell-shocked boy. 

“Elena is going to kill you.” Eve stresses through a grin, but Villanelle just shrugs again. 

She focuses on starting another bird, deciding this will be the last one, letting the end in sight motivate her and sharpen her concentration. She’s almost finished when she hears Kenny speak again. 

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Elena.”

“Why? What are you- why?”

“To tell her I told you. I think maybe I have broken some sort of girl code. I must apologise.”

“No, no no, please don’t, don’t tell her, just forget you said anything, don’t-”

“I have to follow the code, Kenny!”

“No you don’t, give it-”

There’s a scuffling sound from the front of the room and Eve is so close to finishing the wing of the bird, so close-

“What are- hey, ow! Eve, she bit me!” 

She finishes the last feather and then slams the gun down. 

“Oh my god, children, will you please  _ not _ ?” She barks, but amusement is laced through her tone as she stares at the two of them, Villanelle with wide eyes and her hands behind her back, Kenny rubbing his forearm and edging away from Villanelle. “V, for my own sake I’m going to assume Kenny is lying and you did not just  _ bite _ him.”

Kenny splutters to argue while Villanelle smirks, but Eve interrupts him with a finger pointed his way. 

“And you, you’ve been silently crushing on Elena since you got here, just ask her the fuck out before she finds someone else and save us all the heartbreak.”

Kenny purses his lips and looks down sulkily as Eve breathes out a sigh of relief and turns to Ji, who has lifted his head up to blearily stare at the scene in confusion. 

“Ji, you’re done. Just let me treat it and wrap it up and you are good to go. I am so sorry for… well. For these people.”

Once Eve has sprayed and wiped down his back, Ji pushes himself up and swings his legs round to sit, rolling his muscular shoulders and wincing a little at the stretch of tender skin. 

“Thanks Eve, can I see it?”

“Sure.” Eve hops up from her chair and stretches herself, back cracking from hunching over for so long. She points him over to a full length mirror, then grabs a long mirror from under her station to hold up behind him. 

“There. What do you think?”

“Fuck, wow.” He breathes out, turning this way and that. “Holy shit, Eve, it’s perfect. Umma’s gonna love it.”

Eve smiles proudly and reaches up to lay one hand on his shoulder. 

“Of course she is,” she says with a smile. “You got a Korean tattoo by a Korean woman. What’s not to love?”

“Well, she’d certainly love you, Eve.”

Eve glances away from his back in the mirror to his face, and sees his eyes focussed on her own, a smile in them that Eve knows all too well. 

Oh boy. 

She’s about to pull away and ask if she can take a picture for her portfolio, when she catches sight of something else in the mirror’s reflection. 

Villanelle, standing halfway across the room, scowling at the back of the man’s head. She doesn’t seem to notice Eve has seen her yet, but Eve can almost feel the daggers in Villanelle’s gaze flying past her straight into Ji. 

Eve finds she likes that look. 

She decides to push it, just a little.

“My mom would like you too.” She says with a smile and a soft squeeze to his shoulder.

She almost feels bad for the hopeful look in his eye, but then she catches Villanelle again who somehow looks angrier than before, fingers of her left hand flexing at her side. 

She’s about to say something else to Ji when she sees Kenny enter the mirror’s reflection, whispering something in Villanelle’s ear with a smirk. 

Eve does let go of his shoulder and spins around as soon as she catches Villanelle kick out with one leg, Kenny jumping out of the way at the last second with a squeak. 

“Will you stop kicking my staff please?”

Villanelle looks back at Eve with a frustrated expression, before pinning her stare on Ji who has also turned around, looking confused and baffled once again at the apparent circus Eve’s studio has become. 

Villanelle opens her mouth as if to speak, but something stops her and she clamps it shut, rolling her eyes at herself. 

“Text me when you’re done.” Villanelle directs at Eve before storming across the room, head held high, straight into Eve’s kitchen.

“But that’s my- you know what, never mind.”

——

An hour later, Eve waves goodbye to Kenny, locking the door behind him and shutting off the lights.

“Vil?” Eve says as she pushes the door to her kitchen open, “You in here?”

There’s no response so Eve assumes Villanelle has gone upstairs, totally used to the younger woman’s ability to make herself at home literally anywhere she goes. She heads over to the fridge to grab a beer, feeling the drain from the day-long session and deciding she deserves a drink, and then catches a glimpse of movement outside. 

She heads over to the french doors in her kitchen for a closer look, hoping to anyone who might be listening that it’s not another urban fox digging up her garden, but instead the sight makes her smile.

She looks out at her long and narrow garden, mostly grass but with a paved path running down the middle, already there when she moved in, and a row of shrubs running along the inside of the two fence borders. Eve never touched the shrubs, but her mother liked to tend to them when she visited twice a year, so they stayed put. 

At the end of the garden, crouched down over an empty bed of soil, is Villanelle. She’s on her knees but her face and hands are blocked from Eve’s view, doing something in the soil that Eve can’t see. She turns quietly and goes back to her fridge, grabbing another beer before opening the door and stepping out. She quietly makes her way down the path and stops just before she reaches Villanelle, watching the loose strands left out of her messy ponytail dance in the autumnal breeze. 

“Hey.”

Villanelle jumps a little then lifts her head, looking over her shoulder and smiling when she sees Eve.

“I did not hear you coming,” Villanelle says, reaching out for the beer that Eve offers her. “I was just pulling out weeds. You could plant some nice flowers here, you know?”

“Mm,” Eve hums, scrunching her face up as she drops to sit beside Villanelle on the grass. “Not really my thing though, gardening.”

“Well lucky for you, it is very much your best friend’s ‘thing’.” Villanelle says. She clinks her bottle against Eve’s and takes a long sip, sighing happily when she brings the bottle back down. “Can I plant some things for you?”

“Would you like that?”

“I would.”

“Then of course.”

Villanelle smiles again in response, then looks at the tiny shed in the back corner of the garden. “What’s in there?”

“Uhhh, lawn mower, mom’s clippers for the bushes, a hammock-”

“A hammock?”

Eve grins at Villanelle’s excited tone.

“Yeah, you want to set it up?”

Villanelle looks at Eve like she’s insane, and Eve laughs again.

“Do not ask stupid questions, Eve.” She says, brushing her dirty hands on her jeans. “We must put it up immediately, I cannot believe you did not tell me you have a hammock.”

Eve unlocks the shed and helps Villanelle drag the hammock out, then leaves the younger woman to start putting it together while she heads back inside to grab a blanket and some cushions, then heads back again for a bag of popcorn and two more beers.

“I brought snacks.” Eve announces, dropping the bottles and popcorn onto one of the cushions before joining Villanelle in knotting the fabric between the two posts already set up. 

“Perfect,” Villanelle says, brow furrowed as she works on the knot. “It is against the rules to not have snacks in a hammock.”

“And what rules are they?”

“The  _ rules _ , Eve, god.”

Eve laughs as they finish the knots, then scoops the blanket and cushions and throws them onto the thick fabric. 

“Hop in.” Eve says, holding the fabric in place. Villanelle jumps up and rolls into the hammock, immediately burrowing herself under the blanket and setting the cushions up behind her so she can sit up a little. Eve passes her their open beers and the bag of popcorn, placing the two unopened bottles by her feet. “Okay, scooch.”

It’s hard to make room in a hammock, Eve knows from experience, so when she jumps up and into the hammock, her rolling onto Villanelle is inevitable. Villanelle lets out an indignant ‘oof’, which Eve laughs at before rearranging herself to lie beside Villanelle, their sides pressed together.

“Stop hogging the blanket.”

Villanelle grabs a corner and hands it to Eve who pulls and wraps half of the fuzzy throw around herself, cosying down before taking her beer from Villanelle.

“To hammocks.” Eve says, clinking their bottles together again.

Villanelle laughs.

“To hammocks.”

——

Florence and the Machine filters quietly through the speakers of Villanelle’s phone as they sway gently under the stars.

The whole thing is straight out of a movie, something romantic and cliche and honestly so typical that Eve is surprised it isn’t scripted somehow.

But they sway and they drink their beers and they eat popcorn, all while staring up at the stars scattered across the sky like spilt salt.

Villanelle points up at the stars and Eve tries to follow what she’s being shown.

“Do you see that W? The five stars that make up a sort of… zig zag shape?”

Eve squints as she tries to find the stars, gasping a little when she spots it.

“Yeah, I see it,” Eve says, eyes fixed on the constellation. “What is it?”

“Cassiopeia.” Villanelle says quietly. “In Greek mythology she was a vain queen who thought herself beautiful. And she was, apparently. They say Cassiopeia boasted that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs.”

“Ooh, bad move Cassiopeia.”

“Yes.” Villanelle laughs. “People got very offended at that, and so she was banished to the stars for people to gawk at forever. Usually people are put in the stars for honour, but not Cassiopeia.”

“Hmm.” Eve hummed, sipping from her beer and turning her head to watch Villanelle. The sky reflects in her bright eyes, and Eve gets lost for a moment.

“I do not think I would mind being in the stars forever.”

Eve almost spat her beer out, saving herself just in time as she chokes her way through a laugh.

“Of course you don’t.”

Villanelle turns to look at Eve and grins, eyes innocent.

“What? What is wrong with having people look at you forever?”

And maybe it’s the stars, maybe it's the gentle rocking of the hammock, or maybe it’s the large hazel eyes only inches away from her own, bright and sparkling with mirth like the stars above them, but Eve says what first comes to her mind.

“Nothing, Vil. I’m sure anyone would be happy looking at you forever.”

Villanelle stares at her, eyes darting between each of Eve’s own before quickly glancing down at her lips.

“You really know how to charm a girl, Eve.”

She feels her heart skip into a faster beat, the warmth of the other woman suddenly burning her own skin through their clothes so deliciously she wants to live in this heat forever.

Eve bites her lip softly and feels her heartbeat echo lower, lower at the sight of Villanelle’s eyes darkening as they study the movement. 

“No,” Eve murmurs, unable to stop her own gaze from dropping to Villanelle’s lips for a moment. “I just know  _ you _ .”

Villanelle closes her eyes and Eve feels a soft puff of air against her lips as Villanelle breathes out slowly. When hazel eyes blink open again, Eve is struck by a hint of nervousness in them. 

“Did you like that man?”

Eve frowns a little, and reaches out without thinking to tuck a strand of dark blonde hair behind Villanelle’s ear, fingertips lingering on her cheekbone. 

“What man?”

“That man from earlier, getting the tattoo.” Villanelle says, just above a whisper. “He liked you. Did you like him?”

Eve trails her fingertips lightly down Villanelle’s cheek to her jaw. 

“No.” Eve replies quietly, eyes locked with Villanelle’s. “I didn’t.”

“Good.”

It’s breathed out like a gentle sigh, and the nervousness vanishes. Eve turns her hand softly, almost cupping Villanelle’s jaw, the ends of her fingers starting to disappear into the roots of honey blonde hair. 

“Why is that good?”

Villanelle says nothing, and Eve watches as her eyes slip closed at the feeling of Eve’s fingers sinking further into her hair. 

“Villanelle.” She murmurs, imploring the other woman to look at her again. “Tell me.”

And her eyes open, lashes fluttering as Eve cups her jaw fully. Villanelle tilts her head, nudging warmly into the palm of Eve’s hand while moving closer, closing the few inches between them slowly, slowly, her nose brushing the side of Eve’s so delicately.

For a second, they share the same air, and Villanelle doesn’t need to tell Eve anything anymore. 

Their lips touch.

And the heat engulfs them both.

——

Eve feels Villanelle sigh gently against her lips and mirrors it. They’re still, just a press of soft lips, plush and light, everything around them pausing to watch, the stars staring down at them and making up their own stories. 

Then Eve draws back, leaving only the tiniest space between them, giving them both a moment to breath, to fill their lungs. 

And then Villanelle presses her lips to Eve’s again. And again. And again. 

Eve presses back and tilts her head, breathing in Villanelle’s sigh as her hand cupping the other woman’s jaw slides further along, nails almost starting to scrape against the base of Villanelle’s skull, but not quite. 

They draw back once more but it’s quicker this time, just a readjustment, and then they’re meeting in the middle and kissing firmer, pressing harder, Villanelle taking Eve’s bottom lip between her own. 

Eve hadn’t noticed the pull in her neck until Villanelle starts awkwardly rolling onto her side, refusing to stop kissing Eve for even a second, and she feels the blonde’s desperation thump fast in her own chest. 

Eve rolls too, struggling in the hammock and unable to hold back a smile, chuckling quietly when she feels Villanelle smirk, but her soft laughter is cut off by her own gasp as she feels teeth gently bite her lower lip and tug. 

Villanelle releases her lip and they pause, everything quiet and waiting. 

And then Eve is crashing back into her. 

The silence is broken by a muffled moan from Villanelle as their tongues press together, Eve savouring the leftover taste of sweet popcorn mixed with something purely Villanelle, something she’ll never be able to describe and will never try to, already unwilling to share the secret of Villanelle’s mouth with the world. 

Eve drags another moan from Villanelle by shifting her fingers fully into her hair and tugging on it, drinking in the vibrations and swallowing the sound whole.

Villanelle is controlling with her kisses, sliding her tongue against Eve’s again and again, not stopping until Eve is whimpering, for what she’s not sure. A chance to breathe, maybe, or a chance to feel that tongue elsewhere, marking a wet path along her neck or stroking firmly between her legs. 

Eve groans at the images flashing their way through her mind, and rolls herself halfway on top of Villanelle. The hammock swings dangerously and the metal poles creak, but neither of the women let up. Villanelle licks deep into Eve’s mouth, and it’s so dirty, so raw, that she can’t help the soft buck of her hips into the woman below her. 

The high pitched moan that comes from Villanelle at the pressure is enough to make Eve pull back from the kiss and press her forehead to Villanelle’s. They both take ragged breaths, lips barely millimetres apart, sharing the damp, charged air between them. 

“So much better than I remember.” Eve mumbles, her nose nudging the side of Villanelle’s, softly, teasing a smile from the blonde. 

“And so much better than I have been imagining.” Villanelle whispers back into Eve’s mouth. 

Eve pauses and moves back a little more, staring down into Villanelle’s deliciously blown eyes, shining even in the darkness. 

“You’ve been thinking about this?”

“Oh, baby.” Villanelle murmurs through a growing smirk, eyes fixed on Eve’s kiss-swollen lips once more. “You have no idea.”

And Eve feels those words like a fireball. They set her alight and sink, scorching their way down through Eve’s body to below where they stop and flicker like burning embers. 

Eve barely draws breath before she rolls onto Villanelle fully, a thigh sliding between her own legs and pressing up immediately, desperate hands twisting into her thick curls and pulling her closer, and-

The poles creak again, louder, and then there’s a snap. 

The women are unceremoniously spun and spat out of the collapsing hammock, Eve landing on her back in the soil bed and Villanelle landing face down not far off. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Eve says worriedly, reaching a hand out towards Villanelle, but a second later Eve is met with Villanelle’s unimpressed face, dirt smeared across her nose and chin and grass blades stuck to her forehead. She coughs once before grimacing. 

“This is not the kind of dirty I wanted to get.”

And Eve laughs at that, because what else can she do?

Villanelle looks momentarily affronted before her own frown collapses, replaced almost immediately by a grin of her own, and soon they’re both laughing, lying side by side on the damp ground and staring up at the stars once again. 

The night really was turning out to be that romantic and sickeningly cliche movie Eve had first compared it to. 

But fuck, it’s the most perfect damn romcom Eve has ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))


	12. Magic Chalk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I need to do a spoiler warning for a film that came out in 2006? If you shouted yes, then watch out for Pan’s Labyrinth stuff! If you shouted I don’t care, then I get it!

When Lenoshka the bunny died, Villanelle hadn’t been sad. Her parents had assured her it was okay to be sad, and that she didn’t have to hide how she was feeling. But seven year old Villanelle had just blinked up at them and shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” she said, “there are always more rabbits. Please can I have another one?”

With a fistful of foxgloves picked from the same patch the last deadly flowers came from, Villanelle had scooped up bunny number two, Kroshka, and stroked her soft ears while feeding her the flowers. She’d held her while she died, watching the rabbit carefully to see what it did, whether it would kick or bite or lol its little tongue out. 

She kept one of the flowers and pressed it in a story book before taking Kroshka to her parents. 

“She died,” Villanelle said, offering the rabbit to her alarmed mother. 

“You’ve only had her for a week!” Her father said, taking the limp rabbit from her tiny hands. 

“Yes,” Villanelle had replied simply. “Can I have another one?”

She was not allowed another one. 

For weeks after the death of her rabbits, Villanelle had taken the pressed flower from her story book each night and stared at it, marvelling at how something so pretty could be so dangerous. 

She decided that when she grew up, she wanted to be like the flower. She wanted people to look at her and think ‘wow, so beautiful’ while knowing full well the power she had just below the surface. She wanted people to be intimidated by her, never really knowing exactly what she was thinking, but struck by the beauty of her petals. 

And for a long time, that’s exactly who she was. 

It took thick curly hair and an American accent for Villanelle to finally let go of her controlled facade. 

——

Villanelle stands in her store and stares. 

The thing stares back. 

“What do you want?” She asks it, casually crossing one leg in front of the other, leaning her hip against the counter. 

The thing continues to stare. 

Villanelle huffs, bored. 

“I do not know what you need.” She tells it. 

It stretches. 

“You want to rest? Well, you can’t rest here.”

It stares. It sits. 

“No, do not make yourself comfortable.”

It floops down onto the ground. 

Villanelle sighs. 

“I should never have given you those salmon scraps last week, little cat.”

The cat mews sweetly and rolls onto its back, and Villanelle huffs again. 

“You are becoming a burden,” she tells the fluffy black cat. “I already have living things to take care of.”

The cat gets back up and wanders lazily over to Villanelle, and she groans as it winds its way around her ankles. 

“Ugh, do not get cosy. I am not your friend.”

The cat looks up at her with wide yellow eyes and mews again, gently tapping a paw against Villanelle’s shin. 

“Oh god, that is very cute.” Villanelle says begrudgingly. “Just… just wait here.”

She quickly walks through to her kitchen at the back of the building and opens up the fridge, scouring it for something she can feed the fluffy thing so it leaves her alone. 

Do cats like baked beans? Villanelle narrows her eyes in thought. 

Only one way to find out. 

She pours the leftover beans and sauce into a little dish and brings it out, the cat waiting patiently at the door to her home. 

“Hello again,” Villanelle says, before walking behind the counter and putting the dish on the floor. “Eat up, please.”

The cat looks down at the food and then back up at Villanelle, a sad meow making her roll her eyes. 

“Do not turn your nose up at food,” Villanelle says sternly, but the cat just stares. “Okay, fine, look.”

Villanelle sits down with the cat and nudges the beans with a finger finger popping her fingertip in her mouth. 

“See? It is good.” She says, pushing the bowl closer to the cat. “Yum yum, nice beans.” 

The cat stares some more then lowers its head, sniffing at the beans before taking a tentative lick. It takes less than a second after that for the cat to start wolfing the food down, and Villanelle smiles a little. 

“Good cat.” She says, reaching out a hand to tickle it behind its ear. The cat starts to purr but doesn’t stop chomping its way through the orange beans. “I admire your energy. I will give you a name.”

She looks at the cat, strokes her way down it’s soft and fluffy back until she reaches its tail. Quickly she lifts it up and peers underneath. 

“A girl, okay.” Villanelle drops the tail and pats the cat on the head. “Okay, you will be called D’yavol. Do you know what that means?”

The cat keeps eating, pushing the dish into Villanelle’s leg with the effort to lick up every last drop of sauce. 

“It means ‘devil’ in Russian. Because you are a devil, D’yavol.”

Finally the small cat looks up, then immediately butts her head into Villanelle’s knee, purring loudly. 

“What now, Dee Dee.” She says thoughtfully, scratching D’yavol under her chin. “You cannot live here, you know. You will mess up my plants.”

D’yavol crawls into her lap and curls up, purring away as she gets comfortable. Villanelle groans and throws her head back dramatically. 

“Um… Vil?”

Villanelle’s head snaps forward at the sound of Eve’s voice and she goes to straighten her legs, but D’yavol senses the movement and digs her claws through Villanelle’s jeans. 

“Ah fuck, D’yavol, let me go.”

But the cat digs deeper, opening one eye to glare at Villanelle who leans back to stare down at her, affronted. 

“I gave you beans!” She hisses, but the cat simply closes its one open eye lazily. 

“Villanelle, who are you talking to?”

“A monster.” She replies, glaring at the sleeping cat. 

She feels a shadow fall over her and looks up to see Eve leaning over her counter, staring down at her in amusement. 

“What are-  _ oh my god _ .” 

Villanelle groans when Eve spots the cat. 

“Please do not get attached.” She begs Eve tiredly as the woman rounds the counter and crouches down, immediately started to fuss the little cat. “Eve, no, that is the opposite of-”

“It’s so cute.” Eve almost squeals, and Villanelle quirks an eyebrow at this side of Eve she’s never seen before. “What’s it doing here?”

“I do not know, she won’t tell me.”

Eve looks up at Villanelle briefly to give her a deadpan stare before gazing back down at the cat purring against her hand. 

“What were you just calling her?”

“Oh,” and Villanelle feels a little embarrassed now. “D’yavol.”

“What does that mean?”

“Devil, in Russian.”

Eve glares at her. 

“You can’t name a cat after the devil, Villanelle.”

“I can and I have.” Villanelle says with a haughty sniff. “She is a small demon with a love of baked beans, with very very sharp claws.”

She scowls at the fluffy black cat as she finishes her sentence, but D’yavol simply stares up at her, blinking sleepily. 

“Oh my god, she loves you so much.”

Villanelle watches Eve coo over the cat for a little bit longer before realising suddenly that this is the first time she’s seen her since the night before, on the hammock. 

“Hi Eve.” She says quietly, and Eve looks up, confused at first but face softening quickly. 

“Hey, Vil.” She says back just as quietly, lips lifting into a small smile. 

D’yavol stretches in Villanelle’s lap with a yawn and rolls over, showing off her fluffy belly and reducing Eve to squeak in delight and leaving Villanelle to groan once more. 

“Did you have any pets growing up?”

Villanelle pauses. 

“Um,” she says after a few seconds of silence, “yes.”

“Okay…” Eve says with a laugh. “So, what did you have?”

Villanelle hesitates again, mentally weighing up her options. 

“Rabbits.”

“Rabbits? Cute,” Eve says with an encouraging smile, “what were they called?”

Villanelle looks down at D’yavol and strokes her between the ears. 

“Lenoshka and Kroshka.”

Silence follows, and eventually Villanelle looks up to see Eve studying her with a slightly furrowed brow. 

“I’ve just realised something.” Eve says, tilting her head. “I feel like I know loads about who you are now, but nothing about who you were before you moved to England.”

She looks at Villanelle expectantly but the blonde just looks back down at the cat again, hoping Eve will drop it if she only gives the bare minimum back. 

“What were you like as a kid, Vil?”

She stares hard at the long black fur between her fingers. 

“I do not think you would like the answer.”

“You don’t know that.” Eve says quietly. “I bet you were a great kid. You must’ve been smart, had friends, and I bet you loved your rabbits, and-”

“I killed them.”

Villanelle can’t take the words back. She’s not sure what happened, but they just jumped out of her, leapt at Eve like all of Villanelle’s other carefully controlled emotions seem to want to. She hazards a look up at Eve who is still staring at her with the same slightly furrowed brow. 

“What?”

Villanelle doesn’t move her eyes from Eve’s own, wanting to catch whatever emotion might play across them. 

“I killed the rabbits. I was 7. Lenoshka was an accident, but Kroshka was not. I killed her on purpose.”

Eve still says nothing and her face remains calm and focussed. Villanelle is desperate to push the cat off her lap. She sighs tiredly. 

“So. Do you still want to know?”

Eve finally moves, looking down at D’yavol and stroking one finger across a tiny paw, and when she looks back up, Villanelle is surprised to see a curious and tentative smile there. 

“I'm gonna assume you were a weird kid.” Eve says quietly, and it’s just a relief to hear the playful hint in Eve’s voice, and not the nervous tone that often laced through the voices of her parents and teachers. 

“Very weird.” Villanelle agreed with a small but growing smile. “I got into fights at school, I liked having no friends, teachers were kind of scared of me, and I had more books about plants than I did toys. Oh, and I was fluent in French and English by 16.”

“And you killed your rabbits.”

Villanelle sighs, and nods slowly. 

“Yes,” she says carefully, studying Eve’s calm expression. “And I killed my rabbits. Just to watch.”

Everything is quiet after that, and Villanelle keeps her eyes locked with Eve’s as she asks her next question 

“Do you think I am awful now?”

“No.” Eve shakes her head. “Because I know you now. I don’t care how dark you were growing up. Nowadays you’re you, and you’re kind and you’re funny and you’re smart. And you’re  _ smoking _ hot, too.”

Villanelle laughs in surprise and starts to reply, but cuts herself off as Eve continues with a smirk . 

“And you can be a real bitch, don’t get me wrong, but-”

Villanelle barks an outraged laugh before thumping Eve hard on the shoulder, sending D’yavol scampering out of her lap with a scratch of claws and a pissed off meow. 

And as Eve rubs at her shoulder with a dramatic pout, Villanelle lets out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. 

——

Once she closes for the day, Villanelle immediately gets changed into comfy sweatpants and a t-shirt. She stands in her kitchen sipping hot lemon tea when her phone buzzes. 

She feels what she assumes the teenage girls feel in high school movies when she sees Eve’s name. 

_Eve: Come over?_

Villanelle: Hmm, why?

_Eve: It’s Wednesday. Movie and a takeout?_

Villanelle: Only if it’s Thai food

_Eve: We got Thai food last week!_

Villanelle: And?

_Eve: Okay fine, Thai food. But I’m picking the movie._

Villanelle: A scary one!

_Eve: God no, are you kidding? Why would I put myself through that?_

Villanelle: Because they’re fun?

_Eve: Being scared is not fun._

Villanelle: It can be

_Eve: Jesus okay fine, but make it a psychological horror, no over the top gore_.

Villanelle: How about a thriller? Have you ever seen Pan’s Labyrinth? 

Something catches Villanelle’s attention and she looks up to find wide yellow eyes staring at her through the french doors in the darkening gloom of her garden. 

“Shoo.” She mumbles at D’yavol, but the cat simply puts its front paws up against the glass. 

Villanelle rolls her eyes and grabs the dish from earlier off the side, filling it up with some milk and then popping it outside the door. 

“Here.” She whispers to the cat, who starts lapping up the milk. “Do not tell anyone I did that or I will not hear the end of it.”

She turns away from the doors and looks back at her phone. 

_Eve: No… what’s it about?_

_Eve: Hello? Are you going to make me google it?_

_Eve: Fine._

_Eve: Oh my god, what the fuck is that thing with the eyeball hands??? I’m not watching it._

——

An hour later, they’re watching it. 

“God, this is so freaky.” Eve mumbles, hugging a pillow to her chest. “And it’s subtitled so I can’t even look away. You did this on purpose.”

“It is not my fault you do not know Spanish.”

“And that’s another thing!” Eve starts, throwing a hand in the air and glaring at Villanelle. “You picked a subtitled film in a language you’re fluent in. You don’t even need to look!”

Villanelle laughs and shifts on the sofa, swapping her legs around so they’re tucked away from Eve while pulling her blanket closer around her shoulders. 

“Then don’t look, Eve. I will just tell you what’s happening.”

“Fine.” Eve says, then buries her face in her own blanket. “What’s happening?”

“She is drawing a door on the wall in chalk. She is pushing the magic door open now. The chalk is magic, Eve, it melted the wall. She has to come back before the last grain of sand falls.”

“What grain of sand?”

“The sand, Eve, shush, I am having to do a lot of translating in my head right now.”

“Sorry.” Eve chuckles, muffled against the cushion. 

“Okay she is crawling through the magic door hole. She is going to walk down a corridor. Oh, it is a long corridor, this could take a while.”

Eve laughs into the cushion again and Villanelle shifts a little closer to her, nestling down in the blankets and leaning on Eve a little. 

“She is watching the hourglass... She is wasting time watching the hourglass. Okay she is walking. Oh, she is in a chamber now, there is a big table full of food. I am hungry.”

“Jesus. The Thai will be here soon.”

“Thank god. Okay, she is picking up a plate with his eyeballs on it, she-”

“What?!”

“Stop interrupting! There are pictures of- oh yikes, okay. There are pictures.”

“What of?”

“Eve if you want to know then you should just watch it.”

“No, no, I don’t want to.”

“Okay, well then be quiet. Pass me my glass.”

Eve fumbles blindly at the floor by her feet and brings up the glass of red wine, holding it carefully in Villanelle’s direction. 

“Thank you. Okay where are we, uhhh, oh, she is unlocking the little faerie door with a key. Um… there’s a dagger in it, wow, it is a beautiful knife!”

Eve grunts into the pillow and Villanelle sips her wine. 

“She is walking along the table. She is looking at all the food. The faeries are flapping at her and telling her not to eat it. I am so hungry, Eve.”

“You can wait fifteen minutes, woman.”

“I don’t know if I can, but okay. Oh no, oh she is eating a grape, this is bad news. Also I do not understand why she picked a grape when there is a whole table of food? Actually, you know what, you can look now Eve, the scary part is over.” 

“Really?” Eve says as she looks up. 

“No.” Villanelle smiles, because at that moment the skin monster lifts his hands to his face, eyeballs in his palms, and Eve shrieks. 

“Fuck!” She yells, immediately pushing her face into Villanelle’s arm. “God, you suck.”

“And you are a baby.” Villanelle replies with a chuckle, but already feeling a soft warmth spread through her at the contact. “It’s okay, it’s over. Look.”

Eve peeks up just as the monster tears the head off a faerie, and Villanelle laughs as Eve groans and hides her face once more. 

“Why did I trust you?”

“Because you are silly.”

Eve hums into Villanelle’s shoulder as the rest of the scene plays out, and once the little girl has escaped the chamber she gives Eve a nudge. 

“It is actually done now, you can tell by the music.”

Eve slowly lifts her head and squints warily at the screen, sighing and opening her eyes fully once she’s deemed it safe to do so. 

Eve turns to look at Villanelle, and it’s only now she’s sat up that Villanelle realises how close they’ve gotten. Images of their kiss on the hammock the night before flood her memory, and she swallows. 

Eve seems to realise the same thing, because her eyes flick down to Villanelle’s lips for a beat before she clears her throat, looking back up at Villanelle with an unsure look. 

“We should, uhh,” Eve starts, tugging her blanket away from her shoulders. “We should talk about last night, I think.”

“Oh. Okay?” And Villanelle had expected this, she had, but she’d been hoping the bubble would last a bit longer before they had to talk about consequences, and other boring stuff. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” Eve starts, “um. We, uh, we kissed.”

“Yes, I was there.”

Eve deadpans Villanelle who just shrugs in response, enjoying Eve’s awkward approach. 

“If you’re not going to be serious then-”

“No no I am serious!” Villanelle says with a small laugh, turning her body fully to face Eve and taking another sip of wine as she settles more comfortably. “We kissed last night. Go on.”

Eve turns her body too to face Villanelle’s before taking the glass out of her hand and stealing a sip.

“We did, and that’s…it was… Good?”

Villanelle quirks an eyebrow at that and takes her glass back.

“Good?” She says, smirking. “I do not know what kiss you are talking about, because last night was definitely more than good.”

“No, it’s- well, yeah... but I mean, I just mean that what happened last night happened. It wasn’t just a thing, it was like.. it’s a big deal. Right?”

And god, Villanelle wants to kiss the concerned twist right off Eve’s lips.

“Eyes up here, Vil. I’m trying to talk to you.”

Villanelle snaps her eyes away from Eve’s lips, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry.” She says quietly, but not quite able to look all that guilty due to the fact that Eve is clearly trying not to smile. “Continue.”

“Anyway. It’s a big deal, isn’t it.”

Villanelle studies Eve for a moment, the nervous expression on her face and the way her hands pull absentmindedly at a loose thread on the blanket. Villanelle takes another sip of her wine and then stares down into the red liquid, thinking as she swirls it slightly around the glass. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Villanelle says, looking up at Eve again. “It can be whatever kind of deal you want it to be.”

Villanelle watches as Eve bites her lip, then hands her glass of wine back over to her, despite the fact that Eve’s is on the floor somewhere nearby. Eve takes the glass gratefully and runs her other hand through her hair, and Villanelle can't help but watch the journey, feeling jealous of Eve’s fingers pulling gently at the dark curls.

She doesn’t allow herself to fixate on the thoughts firing in her head. This is why she hadn’t wanted to talk just yet. She wanted the two of them to just… be, and then, after  _ being _ for a while, they could talk about what they were doing. Once they’d both had time to figure it out. While figuring each other’s lips out some more. And their bodies, Villanelle  _ really _ wanted to figure out Eve’s body before… before this.

Because Villanelle won’t admit it, but she’s nervous about what Eve will say. The past is the past, but after what Eve did five years ago, Villanelle isn’t sure that Eve could really be into Villanelle the way Villanelle could be into Eve. 

She doesn’t get attached to people. She sleeps her way through women, sometimes men, because she likes it. She likes feeling wanted, she likes being in control, she likes knowing she can ask them to leave whenever she wants. She likes to feel the heat underneath her palms and know that it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a way to feel really,  _ really _ good without having to give away a part of herself to someone. 

For Villanelle, sex is fun and completely on her own terms, and she doesn’t have to share her life or her time beyond getting what she wants from them in the bedroom, whether that’s an orgasm or several for herself or the satisfaction of making someone else come.

But with Eve… it doesn’t feel like how it does with the others. They’ve not slept together and Villanelle is still interested, for one thing. Their kiss alone was enough for Villanelle to keep herself up half the night, biting her pillow as she rutted repeatedly into her own hand, again and again and again. And usually an orgasm was all Villanelle needed to move on from someone, but Eve isn’t  _ someone _ .

She’s… Eve.

Shit, but she doesn’t even know what that  _ means _ .

And Villanelle doesn’t want to entertain the idea that Eve might not feel this as deeply as she does. Villanelle wants to keep going, wants to kiss her again, wants to make Eve feel… like Eve deserves to feel. Better than any ex or stranger could ever make her feel.

Villanelle will take whatever Eve wants to give her, she doesn’t care if it hurts, if it complicates this new, weird feeling Villanelle has whenever she looks at the other woman. She doesn’t care. She just… she’ll take what she can get.

_ God _ , Villanelle thinks to herself,  _ what has this small, loud woman done to me? _

Eve is gearing up to say something, twisting the wine glass in her hands and staring down at it just like Villanelle had.

“I don’t… want things to… change.” Eve says stiltedly.

Villanelle feels her heart clench a little.

“You want to... go back? You want to forget-”

“No, no,” Eve says hurriedly, looking up with wide eyes. “No, Vil, I don’t want to forget. Or… or go back, I just- I’m-”

Villanelle furrows her brow in confusion and Eve sees it and sighs, shaking her head and laughing.

“God, I’m making this into a bigger thing than I meant to, Jesus Christ I am… incapable- okay. I am saying that I liked last night, the kiss on the hammock. And I would not be opposed to it happening again. I just…”

Villanelle’s heart unclenches upon realising that Eve still wants her in some way, and she finds she can breathe enough to help Eve and her stuttering, trailing explanation out.

“You want it to be just that. No mess. Just friends who have… fun.” Villanelle winks on the word fun, and she can practically see Eve deflate with relief.

“How the fuck do you manage to say everything I’ve been trying to say but in like, one sentence.”

Villanelle shrugs and grins, taking back the glass and downing the rest of the wine.

“I have a way with words.” She says with a smile.

“I’ll say.” Eve replies, smiling too. “More wine?”

“Yes please,” Villanelle says happily, handing her glass to Eve. “Oh, and I want something else too.”

“Sure, what do you-”

Her question is cut off by Villanelle leaning forwards and pressing her lips against Eve’s. 

There’s a small gasp, and then Villanelle feels Eve smile against her mouth and kiss back, and god she would agree to anything just to keep this, just to feel Eve, to feel her tongue slide against her own and to feel Eve’s breathy sigh as Villanelle’s hand reaches up and buries itself in Eve’s hair.

“I thought… you wanted… wine.” Eve says, her words punctuated by Villanelle’s insistent kisses.

“I changed my mind.” She mumbles against Eve, sliding down to nip at her jaw line before trailing soft kisses towards her neck. “I found something tastier.”

Eve groans at that and laughs lightly, craning her head back to give Villanelle more space to work. “See? A way with words.”

Villanelle grins against her neck before sucking at her pulse point lightly, eyelids fluttering at the breathless moan that escapes the other woman.

“No more words now, Eve.” She mumbles, bringing her lips back up to Eve’s. “No more words.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pals, I’m off on holiday for a week tomorrow so not 100% sure if I’ll be posting during that, unless the anxiety of being around people 24/7 gets to me in which case who knows, you might get 50 chapters. Or maybe I’ll write while sunbathing? Who knows! We’ll see xo
> 
> Ps, all pan’s labyrinth opinions are my own, why the hell does she eat a GRAPE


	13. Jam-Filled Croustade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the long boi! Also nsfw??? And once again Villanelle’s opinions are my own: giving people names to animals make me unnecessarily annoyed.

_ “We’re closed.” Eve calls out upon hearing the studio door open and someone step inside. She’s on the floor by the stock cupboard and can’t see from her kneeling position. _

_ She doesn’t hear the person leave or the door close, so she gets to her feet with a grumble and a silent curse at herself for forgetting to lock the door straight after closing for the millionth time. _

_ “Hey, we’re- oh, hi.” _

_ “I promise to behave.” _

_ Villanelle is smirking at Eve from the doorway, arm still holding the door open as she stares her down. They’ve crossed paths a fair few times in the last three weeks since Villanelle moved in, and Eve has only gotten more and more curious about the other woman. _

_ “Well in that case, come on in.” Eve smiles. “What’s up?” _

_ “Bored.” Villanelle shrugs while letting the door close, stepping away from it and further into the studio. “I thought maybe you could entertain me. _

_ Eve chuckles as she crouches to close the cupboard doors, and when she stands up again, Villanelle is jumping up to sit on Eve’s tattoo bed. _

_ “Not sure what I have planned for my evening is very entertaining, but you’re welcome to hang around if you want?” _

_ Villanelle hums and tilts her head. _

_ “What are the plans?” _

_ Eve drags her stool over to the bed and sits before reaching down to grab a large portfolio book from the floor by her feet. _

_ “I,” she says as she drops the heavy book onto the bed beside Villanelle, “am adding new flash to my portfolio.” _

_ “What is flash?” _

_ “Predawn tattoos for customers to choose from if they don’t want a specific design.” _

_ “But doesn’t that mean the tattoo has no meaning to the person?” Villanelle asks, legs swinging slowly over the side of the bed. _

_ “Not necessarily,” Eve says, opening the book and flipping to the available pages near the back. “Sometimes a flash piece will mean something to them just through the image itself. Like…” _

_ “Like a flower?” _

_ Eve smiles up at Villanelle. _

_ “Yeah. Like, if roses meant a lot to someone, and an artist they like puts a nice rose tattoo up for grabs.” Eve grabs a pair of scissors from the workstation next to her along with a stack of paper. “And sometimes people just want art on their skin. Some people just love the joy of having something they think is beautiful on them forever.” _

_ Villanelle nods slowly, then places her bag down on the floor.  _

_ “Can I help?” She asks, gesturing towards the papers Eve is spreading over the bed. _

_ “Sure,” Eve agrees. She moves the open portfolio closer to Villanelle. “I’ll cut out these designs and you stick them in? Just peel back the plastic sleeves on the pages.” _

_ Eve starts cutting around her drawings and handing them to Villanelle, but after a few minutes she realises the other woman isn’t actually sticking the pictures in the book. Villanelle must feel Eve’s gaze on her because she looks up, the drawings clutched in her hands. _

_ “You are very talented, Eve.” She says quietly, smile on her lips but a dark sort of sparkle in her eye. “I can see how passionate you are, just from these.” _

_ “I love what I do,” Eve replies, taking the chance to trace Villanelle’s features with her gaze as the blonde looks back down at the drawings. “Do you have any tattoos?” _

_ Villanelle shakes her head and places the drawings on top of the portfolio, crossing her legs as she fixes Eve with a coquettish look. _

_ “No, but I think I would like one. What do you think I should get?” _

_ Eve looks Villanelle up and down slowly, gladly taking advantage of the excuse to do so. She reaches out and touches Villanelle’s ankle, bare above her sneaker. _

_ “Maybe something delicate on your ankle.” Eve says, trailing a fingertip around it. “Something floral.” _

_ “Hmm,” Villanelle hums, and Eve resists the temptation to look up at the sound of Villanelle’s voice an octave lower. “Too normal, for me.” _

_ Eve laughs at that. _

_ “True,” she says, “you need something a lot more unusual.” _

_ The foot Eve’s fingers are hovering over kicks out gently, teasingly, and Eve laughs again as she lifts to touch the soft skin of Villanelle’s wrist resting against her thigh. _

_ “How about a symbol, one that means something to you… like the toxic symbol, for your love of deadly greenery.” _

_ It’s Villanelle’s turn to laugh, and Eve looks up to see her nod, wide smirk on her lips. _

_ “Better, better.” Villanelle says. “But still not ‘me’ enough.” _

_ Their stares stay locked as Eve stands slowly, closing the distance between the two of them with one small step. Eve is feeling bold; she’s been feeding off the reactions Villanelle has given her over the last few weeks. It’s obvious to Eve that Villanelle is attracted to her, and it must be obvious to Villanelle that Eve feels the same way. They’ve been dancing around something, flirtatious comments and loaded looks exchanged as often as pleasantries between the two. _

_ And god, it feels so good to have someone like Villanelle look at her in that way, so yeah, she’s feeling bold. Who wouldn’t, being so blatantly wanted by a statuesque blonde with something mischievous and downright weird simmering behind golden hazel eyes? Eve is desperate to know her better, to know what makes her tick. _

_ She reaches a hand out and drops her gaze to just below Villanelle’s left collarbone. She gently traces a line beneath the sharp edge, feeling the fluttering speed of Villanelle’s heart beneath her fingertip. She looks up at Villanelle with a small smile, tries to portray innocence while feeling anything but.  _

_ “Then how’s this,” Eve asks quietly. “A villanelle, the first line of one, just here.” _

_ Eve feels her heart skip at the sight of perfect white teeth biting down into a full bottom lip.  _

_ “That is more like it.” _

_ Villanelle’s voice is hushed as she speaks, and Eve finds she can’t draw breathe in as Villanelle moves her face closer, only inches of space left between them now.  _

_ Eve can’t look away from the smirking lips, and this is the moment they’ve been building to, fucking finally, after the longest three weeks of her goddamn life, here it is. _

_ “I’ve got to go.” _

_ Eve blinks, and pulls back.  _

_ “Are… are you serious? Right now?” _

_ Villanelle smiles as she hops off the bed, Eve backing away a few steps to give her room.  _

_ “Yes, I forgot about something I have to do.” Villanelle says lightly. “Why?” _

_ Eve chuckles and shakes her head.  _

_ “Nothing.” She says with a smile. “I’d thank you for helping but you didn’t really do anything.” _

_ “I did not really come round to help.” Villanelle says with a smirk, picking her bag up off the ground and putting it over her shoulder.  _

_ And Eve can play this game too, she knows how sexual tension works.  _

_ “So what did you come for?” She says with a quirked eyebrow, leaning her hip against the side of the bed to watch Villanelle slowly leave.  _

_ Villanelle turns and walks through the studio, throwing a smile over her shoulder.  _

_ “For you to entertain me.” _

_ “And did I?” Eve says, unable to keep the curious hint out of her voice.  _

_ Villanelle is at the door now, and she looks back at Eve with a smile bordering on mischievous.  _

_ And then she’s gone. Eve watches her walk past her window until she’s out of sight, then laughs to herself.  _

_ She locks the studio door and makes her way upstairs, heading straight for her bedroom.  _

_ She hopes she entertained Villanelle. And if not? Well, Eve can certainly entertain herself for a little while.  _

_ —— _

They didn’t have sex. 

Eve is in bed with a cup of coffee, sitting up against the headboard, thinking about… Well, about how they didn’t have sex last night after their friends with benefits chat. Or ‘friends who have fun’ as Villanelle so innocently put it. 

It’s not like Eve had wanted to have sex. Well, no, she did, but she wasn’t expecting it or anything. And she’s totally fine that they didn’t. She would’ve been fine if they did, too, but they didn’t which is also okay. 

Jesus. 

Eve shakes her head at herself and takes another long sip of coffee. 

She’s actually impressed with herself for saying what she wanted to say. Granted, she stumbled through it like a drunk in an alleyway but whatever, she still said it. 

And okay, maybe what she said doesn’t exactly reflect how she feels, but it’s a start. 

Eve likes Villanelle. Obviously. Eve’s hands were on her tits last night over her expensive Vivienne Westwood teddy bear t-shirt that Villanelle considered ‘leisurewear’, so yeah, Eve clearly likes her. 

But she also likes Villanelle’s sense of humour, and her obsession with pastries, and the annoying way she taps her foot when she’s waiting, and how she can slip into her dark, intimidating persona almost instantly when necessary, and her love of 80s pop music, and-

She likes Villanelle. She might be one of the best friends she’s ever had, and fuck, if you’d told her that three years ago while she scraped withered but still spiky cacti out of her drain, Eve would’ve lost her mind laughing. 

She likes Villanelle, and she thinks that maybe they could be something good, but Eve is nervous. She finds herself swarmed with every ‘what if’ imaginable, and at the front of that swarm is the memory of what happened five years ago, what Villanelle did, leading the way. 

So Eve is playing it safe. She can see them being  _ more _ , but this way is safer. She can protect herself better, but they can both get they want. What they clearly want, if last night was anything to go by. 

Eve’s half full wine glass being knocked over by a falling blanket is what called an end to their make out session, causing Eve to leap up and run to grab a wet towel while Villanelle lay groaning in frustration on the sofa. 

“It is just a carpet Eve, leave it, buy a new one.”

“I’m not going to buy a new carpet just so you can get off faster.”

“God you are  _ so _ cruel.”

Once the mess had been cleared, Villanelle pushed Eve against the then-whirring dishwasher and kissed her soundly, the only sounds being the hum of the machine and the far off chatter of the movie still playing upstairs. Eve’s hands locked themselves in place on Villanelle’s hips, gently tugging her closer while Villanelle wrapped her arms around her neck. 

“I like kissing you.” Villanelle said quietly. “Do you like kissing me?”

“Yeah, it’s okay I guess.”

Eve yelped and laughed as fingers pinched her waist in warning, despite the smirk of Villanelle’s mouth against her own. 

And they’d stood there like that for… Eve isn’t sure how long. Long enough for her lips to tingle with overuse and for their pace to slow down to lazy pecks, neither seeming to want to stop. The urgency from before gone, they’d been content just standing wrapped up in each other, trading kisses and the occasional flick of tongue, and that had been enough. 

Eve finishes her coffee and tries to focus on the day ahead. It’s Sunday, which means it’s Eve’s day off, but for once she doesn’t have a whole lot to do. She’s not in the mood to get even further ahead with flash work, her calendar is up to date thanks to Villanelle teaching her how to use and sync up her google calendar app, and she’s replied to all emails that need immediate attention. She guesses she could go through the other emails and get some more clients booked in for a few months away, but she’s just not in that kind of zone today. She’s restless. 

She looks around her room as if inspiration will suddenly strike her from the corners, and her eyes settle on her window. The blinds are closed, but there are rays of sunlight streaming through the cracks. It looks like it might be a gorgeous autumnal day, so Eve crawls to the foot or her bed and slides the blinds open. 

Morning sun meets her and she blinks a little in the brightness, but once her sight has settled she can see what looks like a cool and crisp day. She opens the window and lets the breeze roll in, sighing happily at the fresh feeling. 

Villanelle’s curtains are already open and it doesn’t surprise Eve; she knows at this point that Villanelle wakes up with the sun and gets started on her day as soon as she can, unable to sit still for too long without something to occupy her. 

Eve wonders if Villanelle has decided to open her shop or not today, the other woman sometimes working Sundays despite it being the only full day off she allows herself. Eve doesn’t get how the woman can work so much, often working a 6 and a half day week without so much as a complaint, but she guesses it comes back down to Villanelle’s inability to just do nothing for an hour or too. 

Eve decides to get dressed and head to the bakery on the corner for breakfast before heading out for the day to enjoy the weather, and maybe she’ll stop in and check on Villanelle. Just because, you know? It’s kind. 

She tugs on a pair of her trusty black skinny jeans along with a pale blue button down shirt, finishing the look with an oversized grey jumper over the top with the shirt’s collar pulled out. Thick socks go on next and then she heads downstairs for her white high top converse and her raincoat, just in case. Villanelle had wanted her to buy a yellow raincoat like they’d seen in the movie IT, but Eve put her foot down and nixed the sunny colour, choosing black instead. 

She heads through her kitchen and into the studio, unlocking the door and stepping out into the cool mid morning air. She locks up quickly behind her and shoves the keys in her little black backpack before setting off towards the bakery, dreaming of a flakey cinnamon bun. 

As she waits in line she spots delicious looking jam-filled croustades behind the counter, and after asking for her own treat she asks for a pastry too. With a coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other, she heads back towards her building, stopping as she reached the door for Garden of Eden. 

The usual plants and pots aren’t outside yet, but the sign in the window reads ‘open’, so Eve heads inside. 

“Villanelle?” She calls into the shop space, but a quick scan shows it’s empty. Placing the coffee and bag on the counter, Eve starts to head towards the back, frowning slightly at the silence. 

She reaches the ajar door to Villanelle’s little bouquet station, pausing at it and leaning forward to listen. 

“Villanelle?”

Eve almost has a heart attack as a “yes?” calls back to her only inches from where her head is. 

“Christ, Villanelle!” She says, clutching her chest while pushing the door open, revealing Villanelle working on something at her little plant craft station. “Why didn’t you say anything when I first shouted?”

Villanelle quirks an eyebrow at Eve. 

“Because then I would not have been able to scare you?” She says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Eve nods. 

“Of course, silly me.”

Villanelle shrugs then turns back to her station. Eve steps inside the small room to lean against the wall and stare over Villanelle’s shoulder. 

“What are you making?”

“A customer wants a bouquet of roses, but with different colours and amounts to represent the different meanings.”

“Roses have meaning?”

Villanelle turns to stare at her incredulously. 

“You are joking.”

“Uh… no?”

Villanelle widens her eyes and blows out a breath, cheeks puffed up. 

“I thought you were smart.”

Eve slaps Villanelle lightly on the arm. 

“Be nice.” She says, smiling a little regardless. “What are the meanings?”

“There are a lot.” Villanelle says absentmindedly while trimming leaves from a stem. “Red means love. Yellow means friendship, but in Victorian times meant jealousy. White is either innocence and charm, or condolences. Peach means thank you, lavender means love at first sight, pink means admiration or happiness.”

“Jeez, you could have a whole conversation just passing roses to and fro.”

Villanelle hums in agreement as she starts to arrange the flowers. 

“Rose number meanings vary. A single rose can mean true love. Seven can mean infatuation. Ten means perfection. Fifteen is an apology.” Villanelle finishes prepping the roses and starts to wrap them in brown paper. “This guy is sorry about something, I am guessing. Fifteen roses, all in red, pink, and orange.”

“What do orange roses mean?”

Villanelle smirks at Eve, then ties the wrapped bunch together with string. 

“I will tell you later.” Villanelle says, and Eve narrows her eyes suspiciously. Villanelle just shrugs, then looks Eve up and down. “Are you going somewhere? You look good.”

Eve starts to blush a little under Villanelle’s appreciative stare, then remembers her bakery goodies. 

“Oh! I got you something.” Eve steps back into the main room and Villanelle follows her, bouquet in her arms. Eve reaches the counter and opens the bag, pulling out the croustade and presenting it to Villanelle whose eyes light up immediately. 

“Oh, t’es la meilleure!”

Eve smiles as Villanelle plucks the baked snack from the bag and takes a huge bite out of it. 

“I’m gonna assume that means something good?”

“Mmm.” Villanelle hums around a mouthful of jam and pastry. “Fank oo.”

“No problem.” Eve chuckles. “Are you working today?”

Unsurprisingly, Villanelle has already finished the pastry and is brushing flakes from her navy blue sweater, the cuffs and collar of which are striped in what Eve suspects are the Gucci colours. She must remember to bring up what Villanelle said about how she affords these clothes at some point. 

“I was planning to, yes.” Villanelle says after a final lick to catch any crumbs on her lips. “But I will close if you want to go somewhere?”

“Oh, no, don’t close just because of me.” Eve hurriedly says, despite wanting the exact opposite. “I was just thinking of driving out to Epping Forest and hiring a bike.”

“Then I am definitely closing,” Villanelle says, looking borderline offended that Eve even suggested otherwise. “I want to ride a bike!”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” Villanelle says decisively. “Let me go put better shoes on. Oh, and we will have to wait 20 minutes for the man to collect the flowers. Is that okay?”

Eve agrees, smiling as Villanelle dashes off back into her home. Eve goes to the door and turns the little sign to read ‘closed’, then walks through into Villanelle’s kitchen to put the kettle on. If they’re waiting for a bit, they might as well have a coffee. 

Twenty minutes pass quickly as the women chat over their drinks, and soon the man is knocking and Villanelle goes out to give him his flowers. Eve listens to the lilting sound of her voice through the door and lets herself think on the day ahead. 

She’ll let Villanelle choose the music in the car, obviously. And once they’re at the forest they’ll grab some water and hire their bikes, then go on one of the longer trails. Oh, they could grab some sandwiches too and have a picnic half way around. They’ll find a nice sunny spot and share snacks and look at nature and-

Shit. Is this a date?

Panic grips Eve suddenly as she realises she’s essentially asked Villanelle out on a date, which isn’t supposed to happen because they are definitely  _ not dating _ . There’s too much- she’s not- 

Eve takes a deep breath as Villanelle reappears. 

“Ready?” She says happily from the doorway. 

“This isn’t a date.”

Good job, Eve, real gentle. 

Villanelle stares at her with an unreadable expression as Eve tries her best not to wince in embarrassment or stare at her shoes. Just as she’s about to talk her way out of whatever the hell that was, Villanelle shrugs. 

“Okay.” She says, vacant expression gone and smile back on her face. “Let’s go! We must leave soon or we will not have long to ride bikes.”

Eve lets out a breath and smiles back. 

“You can choose the music.”

“Pfft.” Villanelle scoffs. “It is cute that you thought you had a say in that.”

——

By the end of the hour drive, Eve can safely say she knows who Lizzo is. 

“Play Jerome again.”

Villanelle laughs delightedly at Eve’s request. 

“I did not take you for a love song kind of girl, Eve.” She says through her grin, scrolling on her phone and selecting the song. “But I am glad to see you are now a Lizzo stan.”

“What’s a stan?”

Eve sees Villanelle drop her head to her chest on the seat beside her. 

“Come on Eve, you are not that old.”

Eve flaps a hand in Villanelle’s direction as a means to hit her while not taking her eyes off the road, but quickly tugs it back when she feels something wet on her palm. 

“Did you just lick me?!”

“You should know.” Villanelle replies casually. “You are very familiar with my tongue by now.”

Eve refuses to look at the other woman, but she doesn’t have to see Villanelle to know that she’s smirking at the blush rising on Eve’s cheeks. 

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are, stop it.”

“Eve, you are not even looking at me so how do you know I am looking at you?”

Eve rolls her eyes and smiles. 

——

God, she needs to go on more bike rides. 

The wind whipping through her hair, the smell of pine and grass, the sound of birds chirping and kids laughing in the distance. Her calves burn pleasantly and she’s not sure she’s stopped smiling for about two hours now. 

Villanelle is slightly ahead of her, long ponytail dancing behind her in the breeze, singing something that Eve can pick up notes of underneath the sound of the wind. 

Eve only wishes she could stop staring at Villanelle’s ass. It’s distracting, both mentally and physically, because not only can she see nothing but Villanelle’s ass, she also can’t think of anything other than Villanelle’s ass whenever the other woman glides into her line of vision. 

She’s doing it right now, crossing in front of Eve casually, and Eve traces the shape of it with her gaze, thinks about tucking her hands into the back pockets of Villanelle’s boyfriend jeans, maybe squeezing lightly, and Villanelle would moan a little, and Eve would squeeze again, and tug Villanelle closer, and there’s a  _ fucking squirrel sat right in the middle of the track and- _

Eve doesn’t even have time to curse out loud before she’s swerving and hitting a rock sticking out of the track, sending her flying off the bike and rolling across the dirt in a cloud of dust. 

“Eve!”

She hears Villanelle yell from somewhere in front of her, but stays lying on her back with her eyes clenched shut. She feels heat radiating from her leg but doesn’t want to look, so she decides to never move again, to just stay here on the dirt forever. 

“Shit, are you okay?”

Eve just groans in response. 

“Can you move?”

There’s a thud of knees hitting the dirt and then Villanelle’s hand is pushing Eve’s messy curls away from her face. 

“I’m dying.”

She hears a quiet sigh of relief, and opens her eyes to see Villanelle looking down at her with a mix of concern and amusement on her face. 

“I do not think you are dying.” She says gently. 

“You don’t know that.” Eve grumbles back, squeezing her eyes closed again as she shifts to sit up, careful not to put any weight on her left leg. “I might be on death’s door.”

“Well, tell him I said hi, at least.”

Eve squints at Villanelle who gives her an innocent shrug. 

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” Eve replies, but she grimaces when she moves her leg. “Although, my- ah.”

Eve sees Villanelle follow her gaze out the corner of her eye. 

“Oh!” Villanelle hisses. “Eve, your leg.”

The denim has torn at the top of her shin, revealing a bloodied and already bruising scrape the size of her palm. The blood is glinting a little in the sun and Eve looks away, the sight of her own blood making her stomach turn. 

“We should probably move our bikes and get off the track.” She says, determinedly not giving her now throbbing shin any attention. “Will you help me up?”

Villanelle is quick to pull Eve gently to her feet before guiding her to a grassy patch against a tree, collecting the bikes and wheeling them over once Eve is settled against the trunk. 

“What do we do now?” Eve says, “I can’t cycle like this.”

Villanelle hums thoughtfully as she drops to sit facing Eve. 

“I guess we live here now.” She says seriously. “I will forage for safe plants to eat while you build a shelter.”

“You’re right.” Eve nods, but then she catches sight of her oozing leg again and suddenly doesn’t feel like joking. Villanelle must notice the nauseous look because she dips her head to break Eve’s gaze. 

“Hey, look at me, don’t look at that. That is gross and boring. I am pretty and fun.”

Eve laughs lightly, trying her best not to wince. 

“You’re modest too, don’t forget that.”

Villanelle grins and drags her backpack closer. 

“So I have been told.” She says smugly. “Okay, I have a first aid kit so I am going to clean this up.”

Eve tenses up immediately upon seeing Villanelle produce rubbing alcohol from her bag. 

“This will hurt.”

“A bit,” Eve says quickly. “You’re supposed to say ‘this will hurt  _ a bit _ ’.”

“Yes, but I am not a liar.”

And with that, Villanelle pours a splash of alcohol onto the wound, and Eve is pretty sure her yelp sends birds within a 100 metre radius flying. 

——

Her leg only stings softly under her carefully applied bandage, and Eve rolls her head to the side to watch Villanelle. The woman is sat cross legged on the grass, doing something on her phone, but seems to feel Eve’s gaze on her because she looks up suddenly. 

“Okay?” Villanelle asks lightly. 

“Mm.” Eve hums with a nod. “Stings, but not too bad.” 

Villanelle smiles at that, and turns to toss her phone back into her open bag before crawling closer to Eve. 

“Which part of Connecticut did you grow up in?”

Eve is used to completely out of the blue questions from Villanelle at this point, so she doesn’t bat an eyelid as she answers. 

“Stamford.” Eve replies. “Big city but with loads of parks nearby. My favourite was the Mianus River State Park, it was this huge forest area with loads of trails for hiking. I’d take my dog and my bike there whenever I had free time between studying and clubs.”

“You had a dog?” Villanelle’s eyes glitter and Eve is sure she’s imagining a tiny wild haired Eve running around after some overgrown puppy. “What was it called?”

“Daniel.”

Villanelle stares at her blankly. 

“You called your dog Daniel?”

Eve shrugs, eyebrows lifting under Villanelle’s unimpressed gaze. 

“I like people names for animals, okay?”

“What wasted potential.” Villanelle says, shaking her head. “What kind of dog was… Daniel?” 

“He was a black Newfoundland dog.” Eve answers, but quickly regrets it as Villanelle grabs her phone. “No no don’t google what they look like-”

“You named this majestic beast ‘Daniel’!” Villanelle all but yells, shoving her phone screen into Eve’s face to show her picture upon picture of the giant, fluffy black dogs. “This dog is a ‘Midas’! Or ‘Onyx’, or ‘Shadow’, or ‘King’! The poor puppy.”

Eve scoffs and knocks Villanelle’s phone away from her face, the other woman pouting down at the pictures. 

“I’m sorry, Daniel.” She said sadly. “You deserved better.”

“Hey!” Eve snaps, trying not to smile. “That’s my precious childhood dog you’re talking about, who is dead, by the way.”

Villanelle looks up at her confused. 

“Lots of things are dead, Eve.” She says simply. “It does not mean we cannot make fun of them just because they are gone.”

Eve gapes for a second before huffing out a laugh, letting her head drop back against the tree. 

“You’re so weird.”

And suddenly, Villanelle is in her lap. 

“Mmm.” Villanelle agrees, gently taking hold of the sides of Eve’s rain jacket in her hands. “What else am I?”

“Annoying.” Eve mumbles, lolling her head forward to pin Villanelle with a look. “What are you doing?”

“The ground is uncomfortable.” Villanelle shrugs innocently. “Your lap is much comfier. Besides, I have not kissed you from this position yet.”

“Oh, so you’re going to kiss-”

Eve assumes Villanelle is no longer in the mood for teasing chit chat as the woman presses her lips firmly against Eve’s. 

“You know,” Eve mumbles, “you’re making a habit of interrupting me with kissing. I’m starting to think you don’t like me talking.”

“I do.” Villanelle murmurs against Eve’s lips, sliding her hands under Eve’s jacket to put them on her shoulders. “But I am now also interested in learning what else your mouth can do.”

Eve chuckles breathlessly. 

“I don’t even know what to say to that.” 

Villanelle’s hands slide to cup the sides of Eve’s neck, thumbs trailing slowly along her jaw. 

“You could say my name.”

Eve feels all of the air inside her still, her heartbeat stuttering as an echo of it starts to thud lower down. 

“Villanelle.” She whispers slowly, tilting her head to the side as she does, encouraging Villanelle to kiss her again with a soft nudge of her nose. 

Villanelle sighs out a groan, then reattaches their lips. 

There’s a hunger there now that was absent before. 

The hands on Eve’s neck slide around into thick curls and tug gently while Eve’s own hands grip Villanelle’s thighs through the denim. A tongue slips between Eve’s lips as she gasps from a particularly firm pull of her hair, and they’re making out in full view of anyone who might pass by now, Villanelle straddling Eve and commanding her mouth for all the world to see. 

Eve slides her hands slowly up jean clad thighs, tilting her head and licking deep into Villanelle’s mouth who grunts softly in return. It’s heavy and it’s hot and it’s, it’s just  _ not enough _ . 

Eve isn’t in control of herself when her hands reach the tops of toned legs, her thumbs pressed where she knows the creases between thighs torso lie, then she shifts them, curving them around until her hands settle on what caused this whole situation in the first place. 

The breathy moan Villanelle lets out against her lips when Eve squeezes fuels another squeeze, and another, until Eve realises she’s basically pulling Villanelle’s hips against her own repeatedly, guiding the other woman into starting a gentle pattern. 

She definitely did not mean for this to happen  _ here,  _ but Eve finds she can’t stop it, not now Villanelle’s hips are working to their own rhythm against hers, not now Villanelle’s kisses are becoming less focused, not now the hands in her hair are tugging almost desperately to the same beat as her hips. 

“Oi oi!”

They break apart at the gleeful yelp, and Eve looks over Villanelle’s shoulder to see a group of teenage boys on their bikes, whooping in their direction. 

“Kiss again!”

Eve hears Villanelle’s angry growl. 

“Vil, don’t do anything.” She says quietly, “they’re just a bunch of stupid kids.”

“Oi, lesbians! You’re fit!”

Eve doesn’t even have a second to react before Villanelle is jumping up and running away from Eve, charging at the kids who laugh as they speed off. 

“We’re bisexuals, you little shits!”

Eve decides it’s time to intervene when Villanelle scoops stones off the ground and starts lobbing them at the boys, managing to hit one of them in the back of the head and causing their laughs to turn to cursing as they disappear. 

“Easy, tiger.” Eve says as she comes up behind Villanelle. “They’re not worth an assault charge.”

She tries not to laugh when Villanelle stamps her foot. 

“It is like something is trying to stop us from having sex!”

Eve  _ does _ laugh at that. 

“I hate to break it to you sweetheart, but we were not going to have sex against a tree out in the open.”

Villanelle turns around and pouts at Eve, crossing her arms and groaning dramatically. 

“Why won’t you let me live my life?”

“Because it’s my life too, and getting fingered in view of the general public is not on my to-do list.”

Villanelle’s eyes flash in surprise and she grins. 

“Weird choice of dirty talk,” she says while pulling Eve towards her by her coat, “but okay.”

Eve let’s Villanelle kiss her but pulls away before it can escalate. 

“Come on,” Eve says with a gentle pat to Villanelle’s butt. “Let’s finish this trail. You can pick the music again once we’re in the car.”

“I have already decided we are going to listen to Billie Eilish.”

“Who’s that?”

“God, I thought tattoo artists were supposed to be cool.” Villanelle mumbles, shaking her head as they start walking to their bikes. “You will like her, she is dark and brooding. She is only 17.”

“Oh my god, she’s a  _ baby _ !”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“Hey!” Eve says through a bark of laughter. She narrows her eyes as Villanelle shrugs innocently and climbs onto her bike. Eve points a finger at her. “Respect your elders.”

“Dad please get on the bike.”

“I will run you off the track I swear to god.”

——

It’s been dark for a couple of hours by the time Eve crawls into bed that night, her muscles tired from the bike ride and shin stinging under its clean bandage. 

It took another three hours to finish the trail but that was fine, both women enjoying the slow pace and birdsong as they chatted while pedalling. On the way home they’d stopped at McDonald’s and ate it in the car park while Villanelle lectured Eve on current music, resulting in the former creating a list titled ‘must listen’ that she then texted to Eve with firm instructions to check each and every one out.

And who knows, Eve might actually do just that. 

They’d parted ways once back, Villanelle heading into her shop to check if any new orders had come in, while Eve headed through her closed studio and up to the bathroom to shower the forest dust and dirt away. 

Feeling fresh but a little sore, Eve spent a couple of hours reading on the sofa before making herself dinner, all the while trying to focus on herself and what she was doing and not on the fact that she’d much rather be with Villanelle, talking to her and laughing with her and touching her and-

Eve sighs and rolls onto her back, staring up at the bedroom ceiling. 

The whole evening had gone by like this, with Eve dancing away from thoughts that seemed intent on chasing her. It’s not that she doesn’t like thinking of Villanelle, god no, it’s just… that’s  _ all _ she’s thinking about. And Eve thinks that maintaining a ‘friends with benefits’ relationship will become pretty fucking tricky if Eve spends every minute picturing the blonde and what she might be up to. 

Like, what is she up to right now? It’s 11pm, so maybe Villanelle was asleep. Or maybe watching a movie, curled up under blankets. She could be reading, like Eve was, or maybe doing admin work for the shop. Or maybe…

Maybe she’s in bed, thinking about Eve. Mirror images of each other with only a couple of walls and an alleyway between them, staring up at her own bedroom ceiling and picturing Eve. 

The difference between the two of them, of course, is that Villanelle wouldn’t try to stop those thoughts. Villanelle would welcome them and treat herself to a whole buffet of imaginings, probably ranging from what Eve ate for dinner all the way to what Eve is wearing right now. 

That thought freezes Eve. 

Now that they were doing… whatever it is that they’re doing, this ‘friends who have fun’ thing, would Villanelle… well, would she- has she-

Eve blows out a steadying breath and tries to regroup her runaway thoughts, but they’re almost out of sight and completely out of her control. 

Does Villanelle touch herself to thoughts of Eve?

She closes her eyes as the idea solidifies. 

Does Villanelle allow herself to imagine, to fantasise, now that they’ve made it clear that they want to, and  _ will, _ have sex? 

Pictures come rushing at Eve. Villanelle stretched out on her bed, hair a blonde mess on the pillow behind her. Villanelle with her hand on her chest, in her hair, down her shorts. Villanelle gasping, moaning, panting. Villanelle in the shower, speeding up. Villanelle on the sofa, head thrown back. Villanelle, Villanelle, Villanelle. 

All while thinking of her. 

Eve realises her hand is trailing gently across her nipple over her top and freezes, then quickly rolls onto her front and shoves her hands under her pillow to force herself to stop. 

She shouldn’t do it. It isn’t right, somehow, to cast Villanelle as the star in her X-rated fantasies. It must break some kind of rule? Using her like that? Although Villanelle wouldn’t see it as rule breaking, Villanelle would be standing there with pom poms, cheering Eve on. She remembers her thoughts from however long ago it was about how Villanelle would likely want the whole thing written up for her to enjoy herself, and that was before this thing started, so.

Eve finds it harder to persuade her hands to stay under the pillow. 

She doesn’t even really know why she’s fighting it, what with how certain she is that Villanelle would  _ more _ than approve of it. 

She slowly pulls one hand from beneath the pillow. 

Maybe this is fine. They’ve basically agreed without words that they’re going to have sex at some point. And with words, if you take Villanelle’s outburst earlier that day on the bike trail into account. Which Eve does. 

They’re on the path ending in sex and orgasms and other amazing stuff, so really, helping herself out until they get there can’t be all that bad?

Actually, it sounds pretty good. Logical, in fact. 

Eve rolls onto her back and lets her fingers trail back to her chest, tracing them along her collarbone as she goes, the other hand going to fist gently in her hair, just enough to give herself something to hold on to, something to ground herself. 

Her fingertips make a path around her breast, lightly following the curve of it and closing in on the centre, the swooping circles of her fingers getting smaller until she’s there, softly running them over her hard nipple and making her back arch gently. She presses harder, pinches, and lets out a sigh of a moan as she continues, her thoughts running away again but this time with permission to wander. 

She pictures Villanelle sat on the end of Eve’s bed, watching her touch herself. She pictures the hunger in Villanelle’s eyes as she watches Eve play with her tits, pictures the teeth sinking into a plump bottom lip as Eve drags her hand down her stomach slowly, slowly, teasing herself by running fingers along her hip bone. 

_ Do you know what you do to me?  _

Villanelle’s voice is low in her head, husky as she talks to Eve from the end of her bed. 

_ Do you know how you make me feel? _

Eve moans at fantasy Villanelle, her voice like silk, and pushes her sweatpants down to mid thigh. Her fingers itch to move to her centre but Eve holds them back, trailing them to her inner thigh instead and stroking there. Her hips buck slightly. 

_ You look so good, baby.  _

Her moan is louder this time and she spreads her legs a little, fingers edging closer to throbbing heat begging for attention. 

_ Touch yourself for me. Let me watch.  _

The first slide of her fingers against her clit has Eve throwing her head back. She whimpers as she starts to move her fingers, slipping over herself as she rubs back and forth, her breath coming in short gasps as she builds herself up. 

She wants to draw it out but she can’t seem to get the message to her fingers which keep swirling, occasionally dipping down to gather moisture before coming back up to continue their rhythm. 

_ I can’t wait to taste you. God I want you so much Eve.  _

Her moan is high pitched as she slides two fingers inside herself, warmth clutching at them as she starts to slowly pump them in and out. 

There’s a buzz somewhere to her left and she turns her head on instinct, catching sight of her phone screen lighting up on the mattress next to her. 

If it wasn’t so close to her she’d ignore it, wouldn’t even register it, but it  _ is _ close and Eve can see the name she’s been whimpering appear on the screen. 

She pulls her fingers out and drags them back up to her clit as she cranes her neck a little to read the message. 

And then she freezes completely. 

_ Villanelle: I can hear you.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spain is beautiful! Not sure what else to say. I hope you’re all having a good week? Masturbation is healthy!
> 
> OH!! Go check out Anya’s amazing artwork of this fic and others on her instagram @chitedits!!


	14. Weeping Willows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s carry on from where we left off! From my own experience, the texts you send while sexting are pretty short... 
> 
> Also. Hi Sophie. I see ya.

Villanelle stares down at her phone, the text thread with Eve open, her own ‘ _ I can hear you _ ’ text staring right back up at her. 

It feels like an hour has passed, but she knows it’s been 30 seconds max. Her fingers flex around her phone and she tries to take a calming breath, but her racing heartbeat and thundering pulse don’t allow for any sort of relaxation. 

She can hear Eve. She can  _ hear _ her. 

Villanelle knows Eve has heard  _ her _ before, back when they were fighting. Villanelle used to do it on purpose, used to leave her window open and fuck someone loud when she knew Eve was home and in her room. She’d thought it was funny, making Eve have to listen or put headphones on or leave,  _ and _ Villanelle had a good time whilst doing it. It was a win win for her. 

But Eve had never done anything like that to get back at Villanelle. She was more into pulling stunts that made Villanelle’s day to day life more difficult, whereas Villanelle preferred to just piss Eve off. 

And she knew making Eve witness Villanelle give someone an incredible orgasm was enough to really anger the other woman. 

So, Villanelle has never heard Eve in any remotely sexual situation. She’s sure Eve must have brought people back from time to time but she was clearly private about it, and Villanelle had never heard her do anything sexual alone. 

Until now. 

And god, it is  _ music _ . 

Her mind is still buzzing with the sounds Eve made floating through her open window and into Villanelle’s. Did Eve leave hers open on purpose? Does she  _ want _ Villanelle to hear? Or did she just forget? 

To be honest, Villanelle doesn’t really care about the why or the how. She cares about the what. And the ‘what’ is Eve moaning breathily while obviously touching herself. 

Villanelle has edged towards the end of her bed and peeked through the gap in her curtains to find a view through Eve’s window of spread legs in tight grey sweatpants, heels digging into the duvet beneath. 

The rest of the view was blocked by the wall, but Villanelle wouldn’t have looked anyway. She takes consent very seriously, and watching someone masturbate without them knowing is definitely stepping over a line. 

It’d been a good five minutes and Villanelle had simply been existing, drinking in the sounds filtering through her window while letting her mind create its own image of what was happening just a handful of metres away. She itched to touch herself and harmonise her moans with Eve’s but she held off, testing herself. 

And then she sent the text. A spur of the moment decision fuelled by the building heat threatening to send her hand downwards. 

Now she waits, body thrumming, for a reply. The sounds have stopped so she knows Eve has seen the message, there’s no way the other woman would’ve finished so quietly considering how loud she’d been just moments before. 

Villanelle hopes Eve isn’t embarrassed. She desperately wants this to turn into something and silently begs Eve to let herself go rather than apologising and clamming up. 

Her heart stops when her phone buzzes. 

_ Eve: Oh.  _

Villanelle sighs in relief. Okay. Eve wasn’t rejecting her… although she wasn’t exactly encouraging it either. But she can work with this. 

Villanelle: Keep going?

Villanelle: I like it. 

She waits. 

_ Eve: Okay.  _

Villanelle feels the renewed excitement throb between her legs. 

Villanelle: What are you wearing?

_ Eve: Bit cliche… _

Villanelle chuckles even as she settles herself more comfortably on her bed, tugging off her sweater to leave her in a loose tank top and shorts. 

Villanelle: Just trying to create a picture

_ Eve: Will this help? _

Villanelle almost fumbles the phone when a photo comes through. 

And wow, Eve does not fuck about when she commits to something, Villanelle is learning. 

The photo shows Eve’s chest and half of her face, teeth biting down gently into her lip and nipples straining through the thin fabric of her white T-shirt. Villanelle can see the dusky colour of them through the material, and she swallows. 

Villanelle: Fuck you look so good

A moan reaches her through the open window and she can’t help but mirror it, her free hand going to her breast and squeezing, already past needing to ease her way into it. 

_ Eve: You too?  _

_ Eve: I want to see you _

Villanelle lifts the phone and takes a photo of herself from above, eyes dark and lips smirking in the picture as her hand clutches at her breast through the tank top. She sends it, and seconds later hears a soft whine. 

_ Eve: God _

_ Eve: How are you so hot  _

Villanelle smirks, then bites her lip as she pinches her nipple. 

Villanelle: What are you doing right now?

There’s a pause, and Villanelle trails her fingers down as she waits, stopping at the waistband of her shorts. 

_ Eve: I’ve never done this before.  _

_ Eve: The sexting thing, I mean.  _

She smiles and bites her lip while typing. 

Villanelle: It’s okay

Villanelle: I will show you

Villanelle: I’m thinking about taking my shorts off

Villanelle: Do you want me to?

The reply is immediate 

_ Eve: Yes.  _

She kicks the shorts down her long legs and off the bed, leaving her in lace underwear and the tank top.

Villanelle: They’re gone

Villanelle: Will you tell me what you’re wearing now?

_ Eve: White t-shirt, grey joggers, boy shorts. _

Villanelle: Take the joggers and the underwear off?

She poses it as a question, a request, not sure if Eve is comfortable enough yet for Villanelle to make demands. God does she hope Eve makes more demands of her, though. 

_ Eve: They’re gone.  _

Villanelle: Are you wet?

_ Eve: Fuck _

_ Eve: Yes _

_ Eve: I was so close before.  _

Villanelle moans and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment as her hand makes the trip down her body, immediately rubbing herself over the lace of her underwear. 

Villanelle: I’m wet too

_ Eve: Are you touching yourself? _

Villanelle: Yes

_ Eve: Fuck that’s hot _

There’s a long pause where Villanelle watches the three little dots in the message thread appear and disappear, stroking herself through the damp material of her underwear as she waits.

_ Eve: Show me? _

She can’t help but moan loudly at the message. She hadn’t expected Eve to get into it like this, and it sends her fingers dipping under the lace to stroke through slick heat. 

She snaps a picture of her hand down the front of the dark purple underwear, legs spread, and sends it. There’s no mistaking the whine that she hears this time. It makes her rub faster. 

_ Eve: Oh my god Villanelle _

_ Eve: fuck _

Villanelle: Tell me what you’re doing 

She can hear a steady stream of moans now, soft and light over the distance between them, but there. 

_ Eve: Touching myself _

_ Eve: Two fingers inside  _

_ Eve: Feels so good _

_ Eve: You? _

Villanelle whimpers at Eve’s texts, the other woman’s concentration clearly on better things, like the two fingers pumping in and out of herself. Villanelle groans. 

Villanelle: Rubbing my clit

Villanelle: I’m so wet for you Eve

The soundtrack of Eve’s breathless moans are sending Villanelle faster towards coming, and her pace picks up as she feels her stomach start to tighten. 

_ Eve: Fuck _

_ Eve: I’m close _

Villanelle wants nothing more than to hear Eve come. Gasping and rubbing furious circles, she replies. 

Villanelle: I want my mouth on you

Villanelle: I want to taste you, feel you come on my tongue 

Villanelle: god I want you so much 

_ Eve: fuck I’m coming  _

Villanelle throws her head back and holds her breath as she feels her own orgasm threaten to sweep over her, all the while straining her ears for any sound. There’s quiet, then a gasping moan, and Villanelle closes her eyes and lets her own orgasm hit to the sound of Eve finishing. 

She lies still afterwards, chest heaving, savouring the afterglow. Her phone buzzes somewhere near her left hand. 

_ Eve: TMI but I haven’t come that hard in years.  _

Villanelle can’t stop the bark of laughter the escapes her. 

Villanelle: Why is that TMI but the rest was fine?

_ Eve: Well, the act was over. I felt like I had to announce that something else kind of dirty was coming.  _

Villanelle: You are so strange

Villanelle: and so hot

Villanelle: That was fun!

She swears she hears a chuckle. 

_ Eve: Fun, yes.  _

There’s a pause, and another round of appearing and disappearing dots. Villanelle rolls onto her side, kicking her wet underwear off before slipping under her covers. 

_ Eve: Will this be weird tomorrow?  _

Villanelle: Why would it be weird?

_ Eve: I don’t know? I told you, I’ve never done this. I don’t know what the post-sexting protocol is.  _

Villanelle: We act like normal! Nothing has changed

Villanelle: Except that you will probably be like ten times more relaxed

_ Eve: I want to be mad at you for making fun of me but honestly you’re right. _

Villanelle: I know. 

_ Eve: You had a good time too, right? _

Villanelle shakes her head fondly and smiles. 

Villanelle: Did you not hear me coming? I had a very nice time, thank you Eve

_ Eve: Oh jeez, don’t thank me, it makes it sound like a business transaction or something… _

Villanelle: I am just being polite!

Villanelle: It was amazing

Villanelle: I came so fast

_ Eve: You did? _

Villanelle: Mmhmm

_ Eve: Oh. _

Villanelle: Yes

Eve doesn’t reply for a minute or so, and Villanelle thinks that maybe she’s fallen asleep. Just as she’s typing out a goodnight message, the dots appear. 

_ Eve: I’m not going to be able to get the image of you coming out of my head now.  _

She bites her lip to contain her grin. 

Villanelle: Good. 

——

“Uh, morning.”

Villanelle smiles at Eve’s hesitant voice. It is honestly very sweet that Eve is feeling a little awkward, but Villanelle doesn’t want her to feel so weird that she’ll never want to do last night again, so she goes for the direct response. 

She turns on her heels away from the flowers she was watering and almost skips over to Eve, dropping the watering can on the counter before pushing Eve against it and kissing her firmly. 

She feels Eve’s initial surprise but it fades quickly, and she all but melts against Villanelle’s lips. 

She’s not trying to start something on a Monday morning so she pulls back before it can deepen, flashing Eve a grin before stepping away from her and grabbing her watering can again. 

“Good morning!” Villanelle says happily. “How are you, Eve?”

“I’m good,” Eve says, still a little flustered by the kiss but looking a lot less nervous. “It’s Monday so I’m not working. Do you want something from the bakery?”

“Ooh yes,” Villanelle says happily, “something sweet and sticky, please.”

She throws Eve a wink, and the other woman rolls her eyes while fighting the blush rising on her cheeks. 

“You’re terrible. See you in 15.”

The door closes behind Eve and Villanelle continues to water the plants, humming tunelessly as she goes, until a small sound interrupts her. She looks around for the noise, then spots D’yavol rounding the corner into the shop from Villanelle’s kitchen. 

“How did you-” Villanelle starts, staring in surprise down at the purring black cat. “You are very clever, malen'kiy D'yavol. You will be rewarded.”

She leads the cat through to the kitchen, noting all of the closed windows and doors and shaking her head at how she’s managed to accidentally adopt a small furry expert trespasser, before stopping at the fridge. 

“Today you can have some mackerel, okay?” She says as she peels some dark fish from a packet. “Is this poisonous for you? I do not want to poison you, but I have a history, D’yavol. You may have made a bad choice picking me to pester.”

She plops the fish onto the dish she now seems to solely use for the cat and places it down, D’yavol immediately attempting to swallow half of it without chewing. 

“You are cute, little cat, but I will not save you from choking.” Villanelle tells her. “Slow down.”

The cat ignores her, of course, and with a sigh Villanelle heads back through to her shop to wait for Eve’s return. 

——

It’s Wednesday when Villanelle sees Eve again, the two being busy with work and life and not having a spare moment to chat face to face since Eve brought her the pastry. 

Villanelle is replying to some emails at the counter when the bell above the door tinkles. 

“Hell- oh.” Her greeting drops in tone when she sees who her customer is. “Nadia. Hi.”

The petite woman with pixie-like features gives Villanelle a nervous smile. 

“Hello Villanelle.”

Villanelle sucks her teeth and attempts a smile. 

“What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

“No, no. I just thought I’d stop by. How are you?”

“I am fine,” Villanelle replies, strained smile still in place. “I am working.”

“I know. I just… wanted to say hello?”

Villanelle sighs and puts her elbows on the counter then drops her chin heavily onto her hands, propping her head up while she stares at Nadia tiredly. 

“Okay? Well. Hello.”

“Hello. Um, also, I wondered if you-”

There’s another tinkle of the bell, and Villanelle could honestly groan at the shitty timing of this afternoon as Eve walks in. 

“Hey- oh, you’re with a customer. I’ll just wait.”

Eve flashes Villanelle a smile as she speaks, then heads over to inspect some plants nearby to keep herself busy. 

“Anyway,” Nadia says quietly, now they have company, “I was wondering if you would like to go for a drink?”

Villanelle sees Eve freeze out of the corner of her eye, and holds back a sigh because again,  _ of course _ they’re both here. 

“I can’t, sorry Nadia.”

“Oh.” The woman sounds disappointed. “Okay... um, why? Usually you are all for it, and it has been ages-”

“Okay Nadia time to go!” Villanelle cuts through Nadia’s hushed statement with a loud voice, ushering the woman out. 

“Wait, are you the lady from next door?”

Eve turns on the spot and has the same strained smile Villanelle is sure she had on her own face just moments ago. 

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Oh! My brother got a tattoo from you years ago on his leg! It is very good, you are very talented.”

Villanelle wants to roll her eyes at how Eve’s discomfort basically dissolves at the compliment. 

“Oh, well,” Eve says, a genuine smile building. “Thank you, that’s very sweet. Actually, I recognise you too. Did you come in with your brother?”

“No,” Nadia shakes her head, confused. “No I have never been inside your studio, and only here three or four times.”

“Are you sure, because I-”

Villanelle watches as realisation washes over Eve’s face. Oh boy. 

“Actually, no, I must be thinking of someone else. Anyway, I need to get going, so if you’ll excuse me-”

“No, Nadia is leaving.” Villanelle says firmly, guiding Nadia once more towards the door with a hand at the small of her back. “Goodbye Nadia, lovely seeing you, no drinks though okay, I am… married, now. Yes, I am married. Okay goodbye Nadia goodbye.” 

She closes the door behind the still confused looking Nadia and then presses her forehead against the frame, exhaling quietly. A throat clearing behind her has her slowly turning round. She flashes Eve an anxious smile. 

“Uh… want to hang out?” 

“I know her, Villanelle.” Eve says, glaring. “In fact, I know her fairly well.”

Villanelle winces, ready for what’s to come. 

“Actually, I know her so well that I could tell you  _ exactly _ what she sounds like when she moans.”

“ _ You _ slept with  _ Nadia _ ?” Villanelle tries with a playfully shocked voice and wide eyes, but Eve just scoffs. 

“Cut the crap, Villanelle.” She says with a glare. “She was one of the ones you used to fuck against your window to piss me off!”

Villanelle throws her hands up, now feeling slightly confused at Eve’s extreme reaction. 

“Okay? So?” Villanelle says exasperatedly. “Why do you care?” 

“I don’t!” Eve almost yells, and it clicks, and Villanelle smiles in victory, crossing her arms across her chest. Eve lowers her voice and tries to give a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t.” 

“Uh huh.” Villanelle says knowingly. “You are sure you’re not just a bit jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.” Eve says calmly, and Villanelle’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not!”

“It would be okay if you were.” Villanelle says, her smug smile sliding into a smirk as she walks slowly towards Eve. “I think jealousy is hot.”

“Oh. You do?”

“Mmhmm.” Villanelle hums, and stops in front of Eve. She reaches up and twirls a curl around her finger. “It is possessive. I like it.”

“That’s…” Eve begins, scrunching her nose a bit as she looks at Villanelle. “That’s not entirely healthy, Vil.”

Villanelle shrugs. 

“And?”

“Never mind.” Eve says, smiling a little now. “Okay. I... was jealous. I’m still jealous.”

Villanelle smirks and lowers her lips to Eve’s. 

“You do not need to worry.” She says against Eve’s parted lips. “You are the only friend I want to fuck against my window, now.”

“Jesus.”

“Too much?” Villanelle asks, kissing Eve once, gently.

“No, just…” Eve trails off with a chuckle. “Just be quiet. Kiss me.”

——

Sitting on her sofa, Villanelle sips at her juice thoughtfully. 

She thinks about Eve. 

She’s been thinking about Eve a lot lately, which is strange. 

She’s always thought about Eve, you can’t feud with someone without thinking about them, but now she thinks about her in the gaps in between, too. 

It’s not like she even thinks about specific things. Eve is just… there. Ever-present in her mind, dancing around Villanelle’s usual thoughts of work and food and plants.

Villanelle drains her juice and puts the glass on the floor before pulling her legs up onto the sofa and lying down. She stares up at the ceiling. 

She wonders if Eve is also staring at the ceiling. Or maybe she’s making dinner. Or ordering dinner. Maybe she’s with Elena, or maybe she’s reading, or maybe she’s drawing. 

Villanelle frowns a little. 

Eve is everywhere, and Villanelle isn’t used to thinking about someone like that. 

She likes Eve. A lot. She’s known that for a while, since before Eve suggested this friends with benefits thing. Villanelle would’ve taken anything; friends who kiss, friends who fuck, friends who date, friends who are girlfriends. Literally anything Eve offered she’d have jumped at. 

It is very unlike her. 

But she finds she doesn’t mind it. 

Her thoughts and feelings haven’t grown since then, exactly. Just… multiplied. Is that the right word? There are more of them. It is getting very full in her head, and she is okay with it, but eventually she might have to talk about them or else they will start running out of her ears. 

Villanelle thinks back to their bike ride. She thinks of their movie night. She thinks of their quick shared breakfast of croissants. 

She thinks she’d like that to happen more. 

Would Eve like that?

Eve would call that dating. Eve wouldn’t like that. 

Villanelle rolls onto her side with a huff. 

She’s never dated anyone before. She’s never seen the point, never wanted anything more than sex from people. But now, with Eve, she wants dinner. She wants days out and holidays away and cosy nights in. She wants to hold her hand in the street. 

Villanelle has never wanted to hold someone’s hand before.

Now she wants to hold Eve’s hand and play with her fingers and read her palms. 

It is foreign to Villanelle, but it leaves her feeling warm, so she allows it. 

But Eve won’t allow it. She’s sure of that. 

Rolling all the way over to face the back of the sofa, Villanelle sighs. Maybe she could ease Eve into it? Villanelle is very good at getting what she wants, but she doesn’t want to manipulate Eve. So maybe she could just… casually introduce these little things, and see how Eve reacts?

She won’t announce them, won’t call anything a date or whatever. She will just do it, and see what Eve does in return. And maybe, maybe, after a while, Villanelle might be able to talk to Eve about the things without Eve running away. 

Maybe one day Villanelle could introduce Eve as her girlfriend, and Eve would turn to her in surprise, but smile. Eve would squeeze her hand. Eve would blush a little, then turn back to whoever they are talking to and carry on as normal. 

Villanelle sits up. 

She loves having a plan of action. 

Suddenly feeling rejuvenated, she quickly changes into running gear and jogs downstairs before heading out and turning onto the familiar route to the nearby park, the one with the flowerbeds and the pond, with the weeping willows dipping their branches into the rippling surface. She plugs in her headphones and scrolls for her running playlist, the pavement hard beneath her feet as she goes. 

She’ll think up some non-dates as she runs, she decides, maybe scout out a park patch for a picnic with Eve. 

——

It’s fully dark when she returns from her run, and she glances up at Eve’s building as she catches her breath on the pavement. The lights in the living room are on. Villanelle wonders if she’s watching a movie, and fires off a quick text to Eve before starting her warm down stretches in the cool night air. 

Villanelle: Busy?

She stretches then heads inside, walking straight through to the kitchen for water. A muffled mew comes from somewhere, and Villanelle closes the fridge to see D’yavol perched on her windowsill, pawing at the kitchen window. 

“No.” Villanelle says. “It is night time. You may not come in.”

There’s a sudden rumbling of thunder in the distance and D’yavol starts pawing more frantically, throwing pitiful squeaks in.

Villanelle drops her head back and groans. 

“Fine.” She says, staring back at the cat before gesturing to the french doors. “Fine, you can come in. But you do not live here, okay?” 

Villanelle opens the doors and the cat leaps from the sill and dashes over, skidding in and immediately banging into Villanelle’s ankles. 

“Hello, D’yavol.”

The cat stares up at Villanelle and purrs, starting to wind itself around her ankles. 

“Would you like food?” I have some leftover chicken breast from last night?”

The small cat mews and attempts to climb Villanelle’s leg. 

“No, no these are very expensive leggings, stop that.”

Villanelle lifts an eyebrow in surprise when the cat immediately stops and instead sits patiently. 

“Is this like Sabrina? Are you going to start talking? Because if you do, I will not hesitate to sell you to the government for science.” 

D’yavol just stares, so Villanelle sighs and reopens the fridge, scraping some chicken onto the usual dish then watching with a small smile as the cat eats in its normal ferocious style. 

“Okay,  _ malysh _ . No jumping on the furniture. I will see you in the morning.”

Villanelle leaves the cat to happily chomp her way through the chicken, and slides her phone from her pocket as she heads up the stairs. 

_ Eve: Just sketching. What’s up? _

Villanelle pauses halfway up. 

Villanelle: Can I come help?

_ Eve: Last time you tried to draw, you permanently damaged my aesthetic.  _

Villanelle: Well, you let me, so

_ Eve: I’m never drinking whisky again.  _

_ Eve: And yes, you can come over. I’ll get the colouring pens out.  _

Villanelle’s scoff of laughter cuts through the quiet of her house as she continues up the stairs. 

Villanelle: I’ll be there in 20. 

——

Freshly showered and dressed down in Calvin Klein joggers and a matching sweatshirt, Villanelle heads over to Eve’s apartment. She passes D’yavol on the way, curled up under the radiator, and pauses to stroke her. 

“Ugh, fine, I will buy you a bed.” Villanelle mutters down at the half-asleep cat.

Soon she is knocking on Eve’s studio door, dancing a little to keep the autumn chill away when Eve appears, dressed in a comfy looking hoodie and shorts, with fuzzy socks pulled up over her ankles. 

“Delivery!” Villanelle calls through the glass, and Eve rolls her eyes with a smile as she unlocks the door. 

“What are you delivering?”

“My sparkling personality?”

“I didn’t order that, but I guess it’ll do.” Eve says, shaking her head and chuckling. “Come on in.”

——

Eve really had got colouring pens out for Villanelle. 

“Why do you even have colouring pens?”

“For moments like this, sweetheart.”

Villanelle tries to fight off the blush at the sound of the nickname casually rolling off Eve’s tongue. It won’t help her plan if Villanelle is caught swooning at things like that. 

“Okay, what should I draw?”

“Um,” Eve hums, already focusing on her own sketchbook again, sat up at her desk while Villanelle sits beside her on a chair dragged up from the kitchen. “Anything you want. A tattoo for yourself?”

“Ooh okay.” Villanelle says excitedly. “Pass me the black pen.”

Music plays quietly in the background as they both draw, Villanelle continuously glancing at Eve as the woman swirls her pen gracefully across the page. 

“You are building worlds on paper.”

Eve stops and throws a shy smile at Villanelle. 

“That’s very poetic.” She says, before turning back to her pad. 

Villanelle hums and then looks back to her own drawing taking shape. She taps her pen against the paper to the beat of the song, and only then realises what’s playing. 

“Is this Françoise Hardy?” Villanelle asks in surprise. 

“Yeah,” Eve says, giving Villanelle an almost embarrassed look. “Don’t let it get to your head, but I may have heard it playing in your shop back during our war and kind of liked it, and… looked it up.”

Villanelle must be positively glowing from how wide she’s grinning. Eve playing some of Villanelle’s favourite music? Maybe her plan would go smoother than she thought. 

Eve rolls her eyes at her broad smile. 

“I said don’t let it get to your head.”

“I’m not!” Villanelle protests, still beaming. “It is just cute, that’s all.”

Eve grumbles at that and refocuses on her work, and Villanelle follows. She grabs a yellow pen and then pink, her drawing almost complete. 

After a few minutes of comfortable quiet, Villanelle slams the pen down. 

“It is finished!” She says before holding the paper above her head like a trophy. “I have created art!”

Eve laughs at that, throwing her head back and dropping her own pen. 

“Okay Picasso, let’s see.”

Villanelle brings the picture down and holds it in front of herself to show Eve. 

“It is D’yavol!” She says, eyes peeking over the top of the paper. “See? Her little black body and her yellow eyes and pink tongue. I also gave her big fangs because I think she might actually be some kind of beast.”

Eve is pressing her lips together tightly, clearly trying not to laugh. 

“What, you do not like it?”

“No, I love it!” Eve says quickly, but Villanelle keeps her pout in place. “Seriously, for someone that can’t draw, this is pretty good.”

“I can draw!” Villanelle says, outraged. 

“No, Vil, you can’t.” Eve says through a comforting smile. “But that’s okay, you’re good at a lot of other things.”

Villanelle immediately drops her pout, a smirk finding its place instead. 

“Like what?” She says suggestively, propping her chin up on her hand and staring at Eve. 

“Like… botany, and gardening, and fashion, and cooking, and-”

“What else?” Villanelle cuts through Eve’s list, shuffling herself closer to Eve who drops her eyes to Villanelle’s lips. “What else am I good at, Eve?”

Eve reaches out to tuck some blonde hair behind Villanelle’s ear, fingers trailing down through the soft strands. Villanelle leans her head into the touch, sighing contentedly. 

“You’re good at making me feel good.”

Oh. Villanelle hadn’t expected that. 

She tilts her head back up, away from the fingers still playing with her hair, and fixes Eve with a dark gaze.

“Oh yes? Well maybe you should show me,” Villanelle says quietly, voice fading to a low murmur as she leans closer towards Eve. “Show me how good I am at making you feel good.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Eve whispers into the few inches of space left between them. 

“Yes it does, you show me how good I am by showing me how good you feel when I show you-”

Eve silences her with a firm press of lips against Villanelle’s own. 

And as Villanelle loses herself in the soft kisses, in the sweet touch of Eve’s tongue, she thinks of Eve and only Eve, and of the perfect picnic spot she found in the middle of the park. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Anya who helps me out with casual Russian phrasing, and who draws bomb af fan art of this fic and others (plus generally great character drawings) over on @chitedits on insta and Twitter!


	15. Skeleton Brian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while! My holiday funked with my writing schedule. Anyway this is nsfw, luv u bye <3

“Hugo, stop.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes you are, you’re staring at me.”

“Is that against the rules?”

“I’m about to make it a rule. Why are you staring?”

Hugo tilts his head to one side, scruffy-chic hair falling across his forehead as he looks at Eve curiously. 

“You seem different.”

Eve looks down at herself from her seated position at her station. 

“Um… okay?”

Hugo points a finger at her and circles it at Eve.

“Hair cut? New jeans?”

“Nope, same hair, same jeans, same everything.”

“Hmm.” Hugo hums thoughtfully, dropping his hand and fisting it to sit underneath his chin and as he continues to stare. “You must be having sex then.”

Eve doesn’t get a chance to react to Hugo before she jumps at the sound of Elena spitting her coffee across the room. 

“Fuck, Hugo!” Elena moans frustratedly, “warn a girl before you throw hilarious accusations about willy nilly!” 

Hugo just shrugs casually, and Eve attempts to regain some composure.

“Hugo, no, I am not having sex. And,” she pauses to direct her attention to Elena, “Elena? ‘Hilarious’? What’s so funny about the idea of me having sex?”

Elena mops at her shirt with a wad of tissue as she looks at Eve with a raised eyebrow. 

“Come on babe,” Elena says. “You’re not exactly the adventurous type. Last time you brought someone back to yours was a year ago, after my Halloween party.”

“Oh yeah, skeleton Brian.” Eve says thoughtfully. 

“Who is skeleton Brian?”

Eve turns her head quickly to see Villanelle standing just inside the doorway, looking at her with a curious smile. 

“Eve’s last lay.”

“Elena!” Eve barks, fixing a wide eyed glare at her friend. 

“Eve’s last lay, hmm?” Villanelle says, and Eve wants to roll her eyes at the sparkle of mirth in the blonde’s. “And he was a skeleton, you said?”

“Skeleton  _ costume _ .” Eve grumbles. “It was a costume.”

“I see.” Villanelle says with a nod. “And did he keep on the costume while you...”

“Oh my god.” Eve buries her face in her hands as Elena starts laughing. “Elena, stop laughing or I swear I will fire you.”

“Do not worry Elena, you can come and work for me.” Villanelle says sweetly, and Eve looks up to see Villanelle slip an arm around the other woman’s shoulders which still shake with laughter. 

Eve turns her angry gaze to Hugo. 

“This is your fault.”

He lifts his hands in a show of innocence and shrugs. 

“I’m just calling it like I see it, boss.” He says nonchalantly. “And the way I see it, you are definitely getting some. And if it’s not sex then it’s something close.”

Eve is proud of herself for resisting the urge to look at Villanelle, instead just deadpanning at Hugo, who shrugs again. 

“New vibrator?” He supplies. 

“Hugo, I will fire your ass too.” Eve barks over Elena’s new ripple of laughter. 

“And you cannot work for me, Hugo.” Villanelle says, arm still draped casually over Elena’s shoulders. 

Hugo stands from his chair, annoyed. 

“What? Why?”

“Because you are annoying.”

Hugo huffs and drops back down onto his swivel chair, spinning away from the rest of the room and over towards his piercing cabinet with a frown. 

“At this rate the only member of staff I’ll have left is Kenny. You’re on my side, right Ken?”

Eve, Elena and Villanelle all look over to Kenny. Headphones over his ears, he doesn’t look up, continuing to work on his drawing. 

A paper ball hitting him in the head quickly brings his attention up to the group. 

“Huh?” He mumbles distractedly, pulling his headphones off. 

“Villanelle, please don’t throw things at my only staff member.”

——

_ Villanelle: So how is work life with only Kenny? _

Eve smirks at the message lighting up her phone screen as she reheats some noodles. She scoops her phone up and leans against the counter, tapping her foot to the almost rhythmic whir of the microwave. 

Eve: Quiet and orderly. It’s perfect. Although I do miss Elena’s coffee making skills. 

_ Villanelle: I hope you do not fire her for real, I like seeing her when I stop by.  _

Eve: What about Hugo?

_ Villanelle: Oh you can fire him, I do not care. _

Eve laughs quietly, then jumps a little as her microwave pings. She takes the tub out and empties it onto a plate before heading upstairs to eat on the sofa in front of the telly. 

Eve: Aww come on, he’s not really that bad. 

_ Villanelle: I do not want to hear you say that ever again. _

Eve: Ha! What is it you don’t like about him?

_ Villanelle: I don’t know. I just get a weird feeling, like he’s pissed me off in another life, like he did something I would not be happy about.  _

_ Villanelle: Also he is arrogant  _

Eve: Kettle, meet pot.

_ Villanelle: What? _

She smiles fondly down at her phone before switching the tv on. With a mouth full of noodles she flicks through until she finds the right channel, shuffling excitedly in her seat. 

Eve: It’s an expression. I’m calling you arrogant, sweetheart. 

_ Villanelle: Oh. _

_ Villanelle: Okay anyway do you want to go out for a drink? Konstantin is asking after you, he has a new whisky he wants you to try.  _

Eve: I am not drinking any whisky concoction of his ever again. 

Eve: Also I can’t. 

_ Villanelle: Why not?  _

Eve slurps more noodles and loses herself in the show playing on screen for a few minutes before realising she’s not replied. 

Eve: Bake Off is on.

_ Villanelle: What is that? _

Jesus Christ. Eve scoffs and puts down her now empty bowl, reaching for her red wine and settling back against the cushions. 

Eve: Are you being serious? Don’t joke with me like that.

_ Villanelle: I am being serious? What is it? _

Eve: Umm only the best show on British television?

_ Villanelle: What is it about? _

_ Villanelle: Wait, I will guess.  _

_ Villanelle: People seeing how stoned they can get? _

Eve: It’s 8pm on a Tuesday, Villanelle, and also that sounds like a terrible show. 

_ Villanelle: I think it sounds funny. Who is most baked, you know? _

Eve: No.

_ Villanelle: Okay okay _

Eve: It’s a baking competition. 

_ Villanelle: I said let me guess!! _

_ Villanelle: Anyway I was going to say that next  _

Eve: No you weren’t. 

_ Villanelle: Whatever, it sounds boring, come out for a drink.  _

Eve: I don’t think you understand just how important this show is. 

_ Villanelle: And I don’t think you understand just how hot it will make me seeing you all dressed up drinking cocktails with me.  _

She feels the blush rise on her cheeks, and chases it down with another sip of wine. 

Eve: Sorry Vil, but not even sexting will distract me from this. It’s the final episode. 

_ Villanelle: Okay fine, I will go without you. _

Eve: Have fun!

_ Villanelle: Hmph. _

_ Villanelle: Okay. I am going. Bye.  _

Shaking her head with a smile, Eve tosses her phone down on the sofa next to her. She’ll text Villanelle back during the break. 

Ten minutes later and Eve is heading down to the kitchen for more wine when there’s a knock on her french doors. 

Once she’s got her feet firmly back on the floor from jumping about a foot in the air in fright, she turns and sees Villanelle waving from outside. Eve opens the door and beckons her inside. 

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“But you are fine!” Villanelle says with a wide smile. “How wonderful.”

It’s only then that Eve notices what Villanelle is wearing. 

It’s a tailored suit, cut perfectly to Villanelle’s every angle and coloured a dark grey, with bright yellow and orange flowers dotted across the blazer and trousers. On her feet are orange trainers, totally in contrast with the sleek suit but somehow still perfectly paired, and her hair is straight and shiny down her back. 

In short, she looks dressed for an awards ceremony, not for Eve’s cluttered kitchen. 

“I, uh,” Eve starts, unable to stop herself from repeatedly dragging her eyes up and down Villanelle’s form, “I thought you were going for drinks?”

“I am.” Villanelle replies with a smirk. Villanelle lifts up a tote bag full of what looks like bottles. “I am coming for drinks here.”

“Oh.” 

Eve is still a little stunned, which Villanelle has clearly picked up on if her lazy smirk is anything to go by. “Okay then.”

The distant sound of orchestra strings finally jars Eve from her thoughts. 

“Oh my god it’s back on!” She shouts as she turns and skids towards the stairs. “Make me whatever!”

Eve charges up the stairs as Villanelle huffs out a laugh. 

——

“Shit, Eve I cannot look.”

The cake on screen is a precarious one, wobbling slightly as the contestant desperately tried to stabilise it. 

“Eve it is going to fall oh my god.”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

Villanelle is sat next to Eve, legs across Eve’s lap and martini glass clutched tightly in her hand as she attempts to look away while keeping her eyes glued to the screen at the same time. Eve holds her own glass tumbler in front of her face, peering round it as if the bright liquid will somehow shield her from the horrors unfolding on screen. 

“You did not tell me it was a thriller, this Bake Off.”

“It’s everything from comedy to trauma, Vil.” Eve murmurs, tense. “You never know what you’ll get with the Great British Bake Off.” 

Villanelle mumbles something along the lines of ‘not so great’ but Eve ignores her, watching the woman on screen start inserting gingerbread as a means to prop up her cake. 

“Amateur.” Eve says, gesturing with her glass at the screen. “This is the final, what are you  _ doing _ ?” 

“Eve, I want another drink but I am scared to leave. If I leave the cake will fall, I am sure of it.”

“It deserves to fall,” Eve bites out. “She’s not cut out for the final, she should never have gotten through. Just let it fall, honey, accept your fate!”

Villanelle gasps dramatically as Eve shouts at the tv. 

“I am learning a lot about you tonight.” She stage whispers, and Eve manages a laugh despite her stomach twisting itself in knots. 

“I’m full of surprises.” Eve says, eyes not leaving the screen. “It’s almost the ad break. Go make more drinks?”

“Why should I go?” Villanelle says indignantly. 

Eve flaps a hand in her direction. 

“Because you are the one who came here wanting to play bartender. I’ll have another tequila sunrise, pretty please.”

“Ugh, fine.” Villanelle stands, pout on her face which Eve smiles at before looking back at the tv. “But only because you look cute in your jammies.”

“In my defence,” Eve says, looking back up at Villanelle. “I didn’t know you were coming. I would’ve worn something a little nicer if I’d known you were going to turn up looking like…”

“Like what?” Villanelle purrs, lowering her face close to Eve’s under the guise of taking Eve’s glass. 

“Like all of my fantasies rolled into one.” 

Eve blames her quick and honest reply on her cake-induced spotty concentration. 

——

“Can we go out now?”

The credits roll for the show and Eve takes a few moments to regain her composure. Not three minutes ago the two of them were jumping up and down, screaming for the winner, but now that the show is over Villanelle has clearly moved on. 

“It’s 9pm!”

Villanelle looks at her like she’s mad. 

“Yes? The perfect time to go out? Come on, get dressed.”

Eve throws her head back and groans, but it’s all for show really. Of course she’ll go out with Villanelle, she’d probably do anything the other woman asked of her. 

Which is a weird thought to have. 

She’ll re-examine that later. 

Eve gets up from the sofa, stretches and ruffles her hair, then heads into her bedroom with Villanelle at her heels. 

Opening her wardrobe, Eve takes a look at her options. She’s about to reach for her jeans when Villanelle barks at her from behind. 

“No black jeans.” 

“Oh for goodness sake.” Eve grumbles, rifling through the few outfits that don’t involve her reliable denims. She grabs at some pieces and then hides them behind her back as she turns around. 

“Shoo,” she tells Villanelle, “tonight’s look is a surprise.”

Villanelle huffs but rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, and brushes past Eve as she leaves. 

Eve changes quickly before heading to her dresser and putting on some mascara and eyeshadow. If Villanelle was going to show up at her house in a suit, then Eve sure as shit was going to put in the effort required for a smoky eye. 

She runs some mousse through her hair to make her curls silkier, then checks herself in her full length mirror. She heads back into the living after throwing her reflection a thumbs up. 

Eve smirks at the look on Villanelle’s face. 

She watches the woman’s eyes travel up and down her body, taking in her black and white Adidas trainers, her fitted black cigarette trousers, her loose white v-neck tee and her trusty black leather jacket. 

“Smart enough for Konstantin’s?” Eve asks flirtatiously. 

“I almost don’t want to go.” Villanelle says distractedly as she stands up, her eyes still fixed on Eve’s outfit. “Maybe we should stay in instead. Play dress up, or something.”

And god does Eve want to agree to that, to ditch the whole bar idea and just spend the night taking layers off each other until there’s nothing but skin on skin. 

But Eve likes to make a point. Some call her stubborn. She calls it… well, she also calls it stubborn. She  _ is _ stubborn. 

“Nope.” Eve says with a casual smile. “We’re going out. It’s only 2 minutes away and I want to try this new cocktail you mentioned.”

——

Seated side by side in a booth in ‘Vasiliev’s’, Eve moans as she sips her drink. 

“Holy shit, this is incredible.” She says. Villanelle smiles, eyes sparkling in the club’s low lighting. 

“He is good at his job.” Villanelle says with a nod. “He will never let you down.”

“Is that just in regard to drinks?” Eve asks, twisting to face Villanelle. “Or life, too?”

Villanelle looks down at her drink and a flash of something crosses her face. It’s so quick Eve almost misses it, but it’s there, fleeting but there. It’s a pensive sort of look, somewhat troubled, and then it’s gone and Villanelle is smiling softly. 

“Life, too.” She says quietly. “Anyway, when does Bake Off start again? I hope it is soon.”

“Oh honey, not until next summer.”

——

Eve watches Villanelle as the blonde stands at the bar, chatting animatedly with Konstantin while he prepares their drinks. The one they’ve already had here plus the two they had back at Eve’s has left her feeling buzzed, a gentle sort of static in her mind and in the tips of her fingers, and she’s having fun. 

She and Villanelle never seem to run out of things to talk about. There’s always something, they can talk about anything and never seem to get bored, whatever the topic. There are silences sometimes but they’re comfortable, there’s no pressure to fill them, there’s no need. Villanelle and Eve just work. It’s what makes them such good friends. 

Eve watches Villanelle laugh, head thrown back and blonde hair glimmering under the brighter bar lights. She could watch her all day, she could watch Villanelle copy the ingredients from the back of a toothpaste tube onto paper and be totally fine with it, still completely captivated by the woman. 

There’s another one of those thoughts again. 

Eve wonders if she needs to rethink her original plan of friends with benefits. She’d suggested it as a means to protect herself, she tries to remind herself now. A way of keeping somewhat of a wall up while allowing them to indulge in each other and not threatening their friendship. 

The wall is there for a reason, Eve repeats to herself. It’s there because of what happened. She can’t let herself get into the vulnerable position she was in last time again, she just can’t. It hurt too much, it fucked with her heart and her head, and the funny thing is it  _ shouldn’t _ have. What happened shouldn’t have affected Eve as much as it did, and yet she’d been miserable for so long after. It was  _ nothing _ in the grand scheme of things, but Eve’s heart had obviously disagreed, despite she and Villanelle only knowing each other for a month. 

Eve needs the defence. She needs it just in case Villanelle does it again. 

At that moment, Villanelle looks over her shoulder at Eve and beams, grin wide and  _ beautiful _ and happy. 

But Villanelle wouldn’t do something like that again, right? It’s different now, they’ve both changed, things have changed…

No. Eve shakes her head a little, trying to shuffle her thoughts back into order. She needs to protect herself. She needs to be safe. Eve looks back up and sees Villanelle head back over with their drinks, a sway in her hips and a sparkle in her eye. 

She shoves those feelings to the back. They’re not important right now. What’s important right now is that she and Eve are on a wavelength, they have an agreement, one based on trust and friendship and desire, god, so much desire. 

Villanelle puts their drinks down and slides back into the booth, pressing her side up against Eve’s. 

“How about we drink these and then go dance?” Villanelle suggests, close to Eve’s ear. 

“I can’t dance.” Eve replies, shivering a little at the teasing feel of Villanelle’s lips hovering near her neck.

“That is okay.” Villanelle murmurs before pulling back and taking a sip of her drink. She smiles. “I will teach you.”

——

It’s hot on the small dance floor. 

Vasiliev’s isn’t your typical club. It’s not full of students dancing and spilling their drinks to top 40 tracks and house music. It’s more intimate, more contained. 

The area for dancing is small, bracketed on each side by tall tables and stools and with minimal lighting above it, all giving it a private sort of feel. The music isn’t something Eve has really listened to before; the beat is slow but the rhythm catches, guiding people into smooth and unhurried dances should they choose to get up from their cosy booths. 

Villanelle tugs on Eve’s hand and guides them to the middle of the floor, and it’s hot. The bodies around them are warm, and they glimmer with a light sheen of sweat as they move. Eve is pulled close to Villanelle and she goes willingly, arms immediately finding their place draped around Villanelle’s neck while the blonde’s slide low around Eve’s waist.

They start to move with the rhythm, hips slow as they cut circles through the cramped air around them. Villanelle’s hands gently tug Eve in closer, close enough that their chests brush, that her hips bump as they dance.

“You call this dancing?” Eve murmurs by Villanelle’s ear, their closeness meaning they don’t have to shout to be heard over the music. Villanelle chuckles, then lifts one hand to brush Eve’s hair over her shoulder. The hand stays there, wrapped in Eve’s curls.

“Mmm,” she hums, lips brushing Eve’s cheekbone. “A type of dancing.”

The hand on Eve’s waist drops, and Eve gasps as it curves gently over her ass and squeezes once.

“This type of dancing lets our bodies learn each other.” Villanelle continues, lips trailing down to Eve’s neck before lifting away. “It is a lesson all in itself.”

Eve feels teeth capture and tug her earlobe and she moans, pressing her hips closer to Villanelle’s in response. 

“Turn around.” Villanelle mumbles in her ear.

Ever turns and immediately backs up into Villanelle, whose arms drift down to hold Eve’s hips. She pulls Eve tight against her, and instinct takes over for Eve. She presses her ass back and grinds into Villanelle.

The moan that reaches Eve borders on sinful.

So she does it again. And again. And again.

Over and over she presses back into Villanelle, the blonde’s hands leaving their crushing grip on her hips to slip down and hold the tops of Eve’s thighs, feeling the way Eve pushes herself back in time with the throbbing beat of whatever song is playing.

It’s hotter now, getting hotter still, and their bodies are warm, flushed, starting to sweat as they dance.

Eve feels  _ want _ and  _ need _ running through her veins, threatening to consume her right here in the middle of a club. She feels the strength in Villanelle’s arms as she places her hands over the blonde’s wrists, the woman clearly fighting to keep her hands as close to decent as she can manage.

Eve runs her hands up soft arms before trailing them up her own body, not stopping their climb until they reach up and behind her to tangle in silky blonde hair. Lips immediately find her neck, starting to pepper her with hot kisses on her sensitive skin, her fluttering pulse point, and Eve continues to roll her ass back into Villanelle. There’s a pinch of teeth and then a sweet sting as lips suck a mark that Eve knows she’ll have to cover up tomorrow.

But who cares about tomorrow, when tonight is happening now?

Eve turns around in Villanelle’s arms again and slides her hands up the stylish grey blazer, settling on the exposed collarbone because of course Villanelle wouldn't wear a shirt under a blazer. Eve brings her lips close to Villanelle’s, close enough to touch but not enough to taste.

“Want to learn a little more about our bodies somewhere more comfortable?”

Eve feels Villanelle exhale sharply, the air puffing delicately against Eve’s lips as the women continue to grind to the smooth beat filtering out from the speakers.

“You do not think this is comfortable?” Villanelle teases, and Eve would be all for playing this game if she didn’t feel like part of her was about to start sparking, setting them both alight and engulfing them.

“A bed is better.” She murmurs.

And she thinks that now is when they’ll kiss, a passionate, heated thing right on the dance floor surrounded by bodies, lost in their own world of tension and want.

But the feel of lips is suddenly gone, and a soft hand is wrapping around Eve’s wrist and pulling her through the crowd. Eve watches the sway of Villanelle’s hips as she half guides half drags her, unable to control the lazy grin spreading across her face at the desperate but direct way Villanelle moves them towards the exit.

She thinks she hears Konstantin’s voice calling to them from somewhere but they ignore the muffled tones, and soon they’re outside. Villanelle tugs at Eve who quickly falls into step with her, and their fingers link together as they make the short walk down the road to their buildings.

“Your place or mine?” Eve asks, glancing at Villanelle who smirks back.

“Mine is closer.”

“By about seven metres...”

“Do you want to walk the extra seven?” Villanelle asks lightly, raising her eyebrows. “Or do you want to get me naked as soon as possible?”

“Yeah okay yours is fine.”

And then they’re at Villanelle’s door. 

They’re inside.

They’re upstairs. 

They’re in the bedroom. 

Eve’s back hits the wall as Villanelle pins her to it, lips immediately finding hers again and biting down until Eve gasps out a moan. 

And Eve doesn’t want to wait any longer. 

She rocks her hips forwards into Villanelle, drawing a whimper from the other woman, then rocks again. Villanelle takes the hint and her hands find Eve’s tits, palming them roughly through the thin v-neck. 

”I want you.” Villanelle murmurs, one hand running up to twist in thick dark curls. “Do you want me?”

“God, yes.”

The solid feel of the wall against her back is gone, replaced by the bounce off the mattress, and then Villanelle is there, on top of Eve, straddling her hips and leaning down to steal Eve’s breath with another hungry kiss. 

It’s all nipping teeth and slick tongue, soft lips and heavy breaths. It’s dirty, it’s  _ everything _ , and Eve is lost to it. 

She almost misses the hands tugging the jacket away from her shoulders, the slide of cotton as her v-neck is pushed up and off to reveal her bra. Almost. 

Because how could she not pay attention to every fucking detail?

Villanelle is staring at Eve’s deep green lace bralette, eyes dancing over each stitch before darting back up. 

“Hoping for something to happen?” Villanelle questions, one eyebrow raised and smirk on her lips as she nods her head once at the bra. 

“Maybe.” Eve husks, lifting her hands to thread through blonde hair. And she tries to think of something else to say, something charming or witty, but then Villanelle is pulling the soft bra cup down and her mouth is on her nipple and fuck charming, fuck witty,  _ fuck _ . 

Eve throws her head back as she moans. Villanelle keeps lavishing her breasts with attention, eventually reaching underneath Eve to rid her of the bra before kissing a trail down her chest, down, down, placing hurried kisses on soft skin as she travels further and further down Eve’s body. 

Then hands are expertly unfastening her trousers and tugging them down her legs, and her underwear is gone too, and it’s hurried and it’s rushed and Eve can  _ feel _ how desperate Villanelle is in her movements, and it’s hot, it’s  _ hot _ . 

“Fuck.” Eve gasps, one hand wrapped in blonde locks and the other now twisting in forest green bed sheets. “Fuck, Vil.”

There’s a hum against the skin of her hip bone, a gentle vibration, then the sting of teeth nipping. Eve’s hips buck once and she whimpers, fingers gripping hair tighter, and Villanelle moans in response to the sharp pull. 

“Please.” Eve breathes out, and then Villanelle is looking up at her, pupils blown, and god she looks  _ wrecked _ , she looks wrecked and flushed and Eve feels herself get even wetter. 

“Please what?” Villanelle murmurs against her skin, sucking a mark where hip meets thigh. 

“You’re gonna make me beg?” 

Villanelle is still staring up at her, and this time Eve can see the smirk in her eyes, the challenge sparkling there, so she tilts her hips up sharply. 

Eve’s eyelashes flutter at the groan Villanelle presses into her thigh. It’s a desperate sound, and suddenly things aren’t going fast enough. 

“Vil, I need you.”

Lips pepper kisses across her inner thighs and it’s so good,  _ so _ good Eve can feel the pressure of each kiss echo in her clit. Her other hand joins the first in Villanelle’s hair because fuck grounding herself, honestly, why would she want to stay grounded when she could be high on this?

“What do you want?” Villanelle whispers, only inches from where Eve needs her. “Tell me.”

She pulls on blonde hair to bring darkened eyes up, feeling the heat and the hunger in Villanelle’s gaze lick over her skin. 

And patience has never been a trait of Eve’s.

“I want you to put your mouth on me.” Eve says, voice low and gravelly and picking up speed. “I want you to keep it there until I come. I want you to touch me, want you to taste me. I want to taste  _ you _ ,  _ god _ I want to- I want-”

A tongue between her legs cuts off Eve’s confession.

——

Eve is a hard worker. 

It makes sense that she’d get involved with someone equally as hardworking. 

Villanelle doesn’t let up. Eve is gasping, feeling nothing but the tongue dragging through her slick folds, circling her clit, dipping inside. There are nails digging into her spread thighs and grunts of pleasure pressed into her wet heat as Villanelle works. 

“God, you’re good.” Eve says breathlessly, one hand still fisting the sheets while the other tugs on blonde hair. “So good.”

Villanelle hums, and Eve would roll her eyes at the smug tone of it if Villanelle wasn’t suddenly focusing all of her attention on Eve’s clit, lips around it and tongue flicking. 

“Fuck,” Eve pants. “Fuck, keep going, don’t stop baby.”

She feels Villanelle freeze for a fraction of a second, and then she’s sucking softly, moaning around Eve’s clit, and Eve, she’s- she-

It starts low, the wave of heat that washes over her. 

“I’m coming,” Eve gasps, “I’m-”

Fingers grip her thighs tighter, and Villanelle is whining into Eve, and she can see Villanelle’s hips grinding down onto the bed when she opens her eyes to look down and it’s all too much, it’s not enough, it’s everything-

Eve moans when she comes, high and loud, hips bucking up into Villanelle’s eager mouth that continues to lap at her, drinking her in, and fuck it’s so  _ dirty _ and primal that Eve feels it start again, another coil unravelling, smaller but nonetheless  _ there- _

She tenses again, shaking, and Villanelle grunts in surprised pleasure at Eve’s unexpected second orgasm, dipping her tongue inside Eve and okay, she could do this forever, could fuck and moan and come with Villanelle  _ forever _ . 

The second is over quicker, and when Eve has caught her breath she sighs, gently pulling Villanelle’s head away with a soft tug to her hair. 

“Jesus, you’re insatiable.” Eve says weakly, her breath catching when Villanelle finally lifts her head, mouth and chin shining, eyes almost black and ringed with golden hazel. Eve moans softly. “Get up here.”

And Eve doesn’t think she’s capable of getting aroused again after that, but Villanelle slowly climbing up over her body sends a jolt down through her gut. 

Villanelle straddles her thigh and leans down to kiss Eve. She tastes herself on Villanelle, and realises she’s the kind of person who likes that, likes that evidence smeared across swollen rosy lips, the tangy taste of sex. 

“How smug are you feeling right now?” Eve mumbles into Villanelle’s mouth. She feels hips shift over her thigh and sighs at the rough scratch of Villanelle’s suit trousers. “And how are you still wearing clothes?”

“I was a little preoccupied.” Villanelle murmurs, kissing Eve again, tongue swiping out to flick at Eve’s teasingly. “You want me to take them off?”

Eve sits up instead of answering. She pulls the blazer from Villanelle’s shoulders, laughing lightly at the expensive looking lace bra underneath. She runs her fingertips across the soft skin of Villanelle’s breasts above the lace cups, smirking at the hitch of breath and the gentle roll of hips against her thigh. 

She reaches down and pops open the button of Villanelle’s tailored trousers. 

“Take these off.” Eve says quietly, fixing Villanelle with a dark look. 

Villanelle moans quietly and quickly moves back from Eve’s lap, ridding herself of her trousers and underwear before climbing back onto Eve’s thigh.

The hot wet touch of Villanelle against her skin has Eve groaning and she’s on fire again, heat building between the two of them and settling deep between her own thighs. Eve’s reaches forward and grabs Villanelle’s ass, pulling her to slide over her thigh. 

Villanelle’s moan has Eve’s eyes fluttering shut, has her squeezing the supple flesh under her palms and pulling again and again. Villanelle’s gasping moans are coming faster, breathier, and Eve opens her eyes to see Villanelle’s brow pinched in concentration as she rocks against Eve’s thigh. 

Eve realises there are hands on her shoulders, nails digging little half moons into her skin as Villanelle keeps herself upright, and Eve wants to give her more, more than just a firm thigh to slide against. 

Villanelle chokes out a moan when Eve’s fingers brush her clit. She adjusts herself, sitting across both of Eve’s thighs and spreading her legs, and Eve watches as she lifts her gaze from the space between them to Eve’s face. 

“Touch me.”

Villanelle’s voice is deep and husky and Eve can’t deny her anything, not when she sounds like dark honey and looks so  _ hungry _ . 

Villanelle throws her head back when Eve slides a finger into clutching heat. There’s a pause, a moment where they both breathe, both exist, and then Eve pulls out and pushes back in and they’re off. 

Villanelle reaches back and unclips her bra, flinging it across the room as she settles into a bucking rhythm, bouncing slightly on Eve’s finger. 

She can see it isn’t enough for the blonde so she adds another, dropping her forehead to Villanelle’s shoulder as the woman whimpers at the stretch, pushing down hard into Eve’s lap. 

“Fuck,” gasps Villanelle, hands finding their place again on Eve’s shoulders. “Harder.”

Eve pushes deeper, keeps her fingers strong as Villanelle presses down onto them repeatedly, and she’s distracted suddenly by the sheen on Villanelle’s neck, her collarbone, her breasts. 

“Yes,” Villanelle moans when Eve attaches her lips to her neck, sucking and licking the salty skin there, leaving a trail of faint marks as she kisses down to Villanelle’s tits. “Fuck, Eve.”

And then Eve’s lips and tongue are on Villanelle’s nipple, and she’s biting down gently as she thrusts her fingers up into her, and Villanelle is moaning, whimpering, as she bounces hard in Eve’s lap. 

Walls tighten around her fingers and Eve knows Villanelle is close. She leaves one last bite to the hard nipple against her lips then lifts her head, meets Villanelle’s eyes. 

“God, look at you.” Eve whispers, because what else can she say? Villanelle is staring at her, eyes black, skin flushed and shimmering with sweat, teeth biting into a plump bottom lip and hair wild. A far cry from the composed suited look, but just as delicious, just as perfect. “You look so fucking good.”

Villanelle whines, closing her eyes briefly as she continues to thrust down before opening again and looking at Eve pleadingly. “Please.”

The word settles low in Eve’s stomach and so she kisses Villanelle, she kisses her, she wraps one hand in messy blonde hair and pulls sharply, and Villanelle is coming, she can feel it on her hand, on her wrist, she can feel it and hear it and see it-

“Oh my god,” Villanelle pants, still bucking her hips but slowing down. “Fuck, Eve.”

And Eve kisses her again. 

——

“Where did you learn to braid hair?”

Eve’s head is in her lap as Villanelle’s long fingers wind through her hair, plaiting the side she can reach. 

“My mother taught me when I was young,” she replies, “so I could do my own hair before school. And when Irina’s hair was longer I would braid hers too.”

“Why didn’t your mom just braid yours for you?” Eve asks, eyes slipping shut as nails scratch gently against her scalp. Villanelle hums in thought. 

“I wanted to do it myself.” She says. “I liked to be able to do things by myself.”

It’s clear that Villanelle is independent. She refuses to hire any staff, for one thing, and Eve has never known her to have a relationship or even a friend in the time she’s known her, besides Elena. And Eve. 

“Why didn’t you want any help?”

Villanelle chuckles, and Eve cranes her head to the side to look up at her, wincing a little at the pull of her hair. 

“Don’t move.” Villanelle says, fingers still twisting the braid as she tugs Eve’s head back into position. “You are full of questions tonight. Is this a post-sex thing with you? Get to come then get to know?”

Eve laughs at that, grinning even as Villanelle tugs on her hair again teasingly. But she says nothing, waiting for Villanelle’s answer. 

“I did not really like other people.” Villanelle says, nonchalant. “I did not understand them, you know? They were difficult. But I understood myself, so it made sense to just keep to myself. Roll over?”

Eve realises the hands in her hair have stopped and she reaches up to trail a hand over the tightly woven french plait. She rolls over, her nose now almost nudging the loose t-shirt covering Villanelle’s body, some old but no doubt expensive thing Villanelle had pulled on once they could be bothered to move. 

“Thank you.” And the fingers are back, working their magic, so Eve lets her eyes close once more. “I understood myself and I understood my plants. My parents got that and so left me to it, they were very busy anyway and liked that I seemed interested in learning, rather than in boys.”

Eve’s scoff is reprimanded by a tap to the top of her head, then Villanelle continues. 

“I just wanted to learn, but when I started high school people tried to make me socialise. I did not want to make friends, so I learned how to make them stay away. How to intimidate the teachers, how to get things I wanted from the other kids, stuff like that.” Villanelle sighs a little and Eve feels the soft exhale flutter the loose hairs by her temple. “I wanted to be left alone. I started fights, I stole, I refused to take part in any team exercises. I once made a teacher cry, that was fun.

Eve can picture the smug little smile on a young Villanelle’s face, sat behind a desk with her arms folded as a teacher flees a classroom. 

“But there was this one girl, another student. Her name was Anna. She was not scared of me. She would always ask to be my partner in class, would ask if she could come over to my house and study. I always said no. But one time she defended me when some stupid older kid tried to push me after I punched his little sister. Anna stood in front of me and he hit her, and then I sort of saw red and then suddenly I was sitting in the office with dried blood on my hands, waiting for my parents. I was suspended. Anna came to see me… she brought me a prickly pear cactus…”

Eve notices the hands in her hair have stopped moving. She turns her head and looks up to see Villanelle’s brow furrowed, gaze distant. 

“Then what happened?”

Villanelle blinks down at Eve like she’s only just realised she’s there. She blinks again, then smiles. 

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.” Villanelle says. “Sit up and kiss me and go look at your braids.”

Eve looks at Villanelle for a moment longer, searching for something, searching for the end of the thread of their conversation to pull it back, but Villanelle has hidden it from view behind smiling hazel eyes. So she sits up, and she kisses Villanelle, and she cups a delicate jaw and runs the pad of her thumb across a softly flushed cheek. 

Villanelle hums happily and Eve feels the smile pressed into her lips, and smiles back. 

“Okay.” She says, pulling back and leaving a soft kiss at the corner of Villanelle’s mouth. “Let’s see if hair stylist is on the cards for you.”

Villanelle bounces in place on the bed and grins, then indicates the mirror on her dresser. Eve gets up, the loose sweatshirt Villanelle lent her barely covering the lace of her underwear, but a gentle hand around her wrist stops her from crossing the room. 

She looks back at Villanelle curiously. 

“You okay?”

Villanelle looks focussed but there’s a glimmer of something else there. Hesitance? Concern? Eve smiles in a way she hopes is encouraging. 

“Stay?” Villanelle says softly. “Here, I mean. Stay the night.”

Eve hadn’t even considered leaving. She’d planned on curling up beside Villanelle, cuddling close and not worrying about keeping any distance or remaining purely platonic in the aftermath. Why would she leave?

But now, now that Villanelle has brought it up, maybe Eve  _ should _ leave? Staying after sex seems like what not to do in a friends with benefits situation. Surely after casual sex you go home, to avoid feelings developing while you sleep skin to skin?

She realises she’s been silent for a few seconds, and Villanelle’s eyes are wide. The hesitance in them is clearer now, and Eve knows she has only moments before Villanelle pulls back, so she brings the hand around her wrist up, up to her lips to kiss smooth knuckles. 

“Of course. How else am I supposed to get some of your chocolate pancakes for breakfast?”

And yeah, leaving would be safer. Leaving would be smarter. Leaving would protect her heart. But Villanelle is just a woman with messy blonde hair, an oversized t-shirt, and a soft blush on her cheeks, and leaving is simply out of the question. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a LONG TIME to write that and I’d just like to thank my emotional support cat, Yotoob boob


	16. Green Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ uk people: not green flag like the insurance company. 
> 
> Hello! The fic is currently in about mid to late December. Not quite Christmas but getting there. This holds zero importance, I’m just one of those people that gets really caught up in and stressed about details. Okay enjoy!!!

It is like a dam has broken. 

Like the gate has been left open to a paddock full of horses, or the brakes cut in a car parked at the top of a hill. 

Like… like another metaphor that indicates Eve and Villanelle can’t stop having sex now that they’ve started. 

And Villanelle is not complaining. 

Tangled in the sheets on Eve’s bed. Bent over the dresser in Villanelle’s room. On the hard floor of Eve’s kitchen. Even the alleyway between their houses after drinks, one time. 

They can’t stop. 

They don’t want to stop. 

Villanelle does not  _ ever _ want to stop. 

She has a feeling she may be in too deep. She’s never understood companionship, or love, or commitment, or anything along those lines. Never saw the point, never worked out why people would want things like that. 

But over the past six weeks, Villanelle thinks that maybe she’s starting to understand. 

A month and a half of sex and passion and sleepless nights and steamy showers have done something to Villanelle, have watered the seedling inside her that started to grow when they first kissed under the stars. It’s grown higher, larger, and it blooms the most beautiful flowers that fill Villanelle’s chest whenever Eve smiles, whenever Eve laughs, whenever Eve comes, whenever Eve falls asleep beside her. 

Villanelle was confused but welcoming when she realised she wanted to hold Eve’s hand, days before they slept together for the first time. She was confused but welcoming when she realised she wanted to be Eve’s girlfriend. Confused because it was a new feeling, welcoming because she was pretty sure she wanted it and could make it happen. 

She’s not confused anymore. She knows exactly what she wants with perfect clarity. 

She’s not confused. 

But she is scared. 

Fear. It’s… a new feeling for her. 

Villanelle’s plan of action to slowly get Eve used to the idea of the two of them being a  _ something _ hasn’t been forgotten. They have gone out for drinks, gone to the movies, spent days out together, but Villanelle felt that she was the only one changing. 

Eve didn’t look as if her heart beat faster whenever their gazes remained locked a moment too long for just ‘friends with benefits’. Eve didn’t sound like her breath hitched whenever their fingers brushed as they walked. Eve didn’t act like butterflies were thrashing inside her when fingers traced cheekbones delicately in the blissful afterglow. 

But it was happening for Villanelle. All of it. Maybe it was happening for Eve too, and she was good at hiding it, but Villanelle doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do if that’s true.

She wants to call Eve her girlfriend, like in her original little fantasy. She wants to hold her hand, and kiss her forehead, and ask her to stay the night  _ without _ that automatically meaning they’re going to have sex. 

Sex is fun, and it’s  _ amazing _ with Eve, but the thought of Eve coming over just to watch a movie and kiss and fall asleep cuddled together is something that Villanelle is finding she’s desperate for. 

She wants to call Eve her girlfriend, but Eve still isn’t giving her reason to believe that she would be okay with things changing in that way. And Villanelle doesn’t know what to  do . It seemed a lot simpler before, when feelings weren’t as heavily involved, weren’t winding themselves like vines around her heart and lungs and stomach. It seemed simple, seemed that Villanelle could rely on her usual confidence and self-assured attitude to help her sail through the transition. 

But now there’s this sick feeling inside of her when she considers that Eve might reject her. 

She’s never been scared of rejection before. The way she sees it, it’s their loss. But now? 

Villanelle has never been more afraid. 

The plan of action is still underway. She’s still trying, still waiting to see a green flag pop up, and she’ll keep trying for as long as it takes, because usually when Villanelle wants something this much she won’t stop until she gets it. 

It is unfortunate that it seems her heart has now decided to fully invest itself without her permission. 

But Villanelle  _ will _ keep trying. 

What does heartbreak even feel like?

Perhaps she will end up finding out. 

——

Villanelle smiles as she steps through the tattoo studio door. 

“Hello, sinners!”

“Are you going to call us that every time you come here?” The man boy named Hugo drawls from the front desk. 

Villanelle throws him a frown. 

“Uh, yes? It is funny?”

Hugo stares and does something weird with his mouth before shaking his head and looking down at his book, so Villanelle turns to Kenny. 

“Hi Kenny.”

Kenny eyes Villanelle warily as she approaches him, pulling out his earbuds and clearing his throat. 

“Hi.” He says. “You’re not going to kick me again, are you?”

“That depends.” Villanelle shrugs, hopping up to sit on the tattoo bed he’s sat drawing behind. “Have you asked Elena yet?”

“Asked me what?”

Villanelle looks over her shoulder to the doorway and grins when Elena and Eve walk in, both with coffees in each hand. Villanelle nods her head towards Kenny and then fixes him with a wide and probably somewhat manic smile. 

“Oh,  _ well _ , has he asked you-”

Villanelle’s knees hit the floor hard. 

“Kenny, what the fuck?” Eve barks 

It takes her a second to get over the shock of being suddenly pushed off the bed, but once she shakes it off she turns on her knees and grabs Kenny’s ankles under the bed, pulling until he slides off the chair with a yelp and thuds to the floor on his back. Villanelle is on him in a second, pinning his arms down and glaring down at him, but then there are arms around her waist and she’s being lifted off as her legs kick out. 

“Vil! Villanelle, stop it!”

It’s Eve’s voice, and Eve’s arms around her, so she stills. 

“I was just trying to help him!”

“Oh my god, I just nearly died.” Kenny says shrilly in the corner, Elena helping back back into his chair. Villanelle scoffs. 

“You did not.” She retorts. “I did not even touch you.”

“You pinned me to the floor!”

“You  _ pushed _ me!” 

“Enough!” 

Eve’s voice cuts clean through the studio, her arms still around Villanelle who doesn’t try to remove them. 

“Fucking hell, you two.” Eve says, exasperated. “This is not high school! You are both adults, don’t make me send you to sit in separate corners for a timeout!”

Villanelle steps out of Eve’s arms and shrugs, turning to face the other woman. 

“I really was just trying to help him, I do not know why he had to push me.”

“What help were you offering that made him push you off a bed?” Elena asks, standing beside Kenny and looking alarmed. Villanelle looks over her shoulder at her friend. 

“I was asking if he had asked you out yet, Elena. And if he hadn’t then I was going to offer him some tips.”

Villanelle shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, because it is, but Elena gapes at her and Kenny drops his face with a soft smack onto the tattoo bed. 

“Oh boy.” Eve mutters, and Villanelle faces her again. 

“What?” Villanelle asks, confused. “Is that not okay? Is that… do friends not do that?” 

“Have you ever actually had a friend before, Villanelle?” Hugo pipes up from the desk, where he’d been watching the scene play out.

Villanelle instantly prickles, but then there’s a hand on the small of her back rubbing soft circles. 

“Easy.” Eve mumbles under her breath for Villanelle to hear. “Not worth it.”

Villanelle feels the fight whoosh out of her as she stares down into warm and imploring brown eyes. She sighs. 

“I broke the girl code again, didn’t I.”

“I think you’ll be fine.” Eve says quietly, nodding her head at something behind Villanelle. 

When she looks, Kenny has stood up and is running his hand through his hair nervously while murmuring something to Elena who grins, blush on her cheeks even as she holds herself confidently. Villanelle turns back to Eve. 

“Did I help?”

Eve chuckles and smiles at Villanelle, eyes soft. 

“God knows how sweetheart, but yes. You helped.” 

——

Villanelle is sitting on a wheeled stool by Eve’s workstation, chatting to the young woman Eve is tattooing. 

“The soil is too dense, or there is not enough drainage in the pot.” She explains to the girl who nods, listening carefully to Villanelle. “That is what causes root rot. I suggest you take a look at the roots, Google will help you diagnose them.”

“Thank you so much.” Says the girl, wincing as Eve continues shading the tattoo on her shin. “I thought I’d have to chuck it out.”

“No problem, and if you need any help in future, come see me next door.” Villanelle says with a friendly smile. Just then, her phone starts buzzing in her pocket. 

Villanelle slides her phone out and frowns when she sees who’s calling. 

“Huh.” She says, considering the caller. 

“Who is it?” 

Villanelle glances up to see Eve looking at her curiously. 

“It is Irina.” Villanelle replies, frowning in confusion down at her phone again. “She should be in school…”

Villanelle tries to quash the tiny twist of worry in her stomach and answers the phone. 

“Irina? Are you okay?”

“It’s- it’s dad.”

And then Irina is talking in rapid fire Russian and Villanelle is taking it all in and she can’t remember how to blink, how does a person  _ blink _ , and Irina has stopped talking now and is starting to cry and oh,  _ oh no _ . 

“I will be there in ten minutes, okay? We will go to the hospital. He will… it will be fine.” Villanelle says in Russian, stumbling over her words a little as she tries to calm her breathing. “See you soon.”

She fumbles with her phone as she hangs up and then nearly jumps out of her skin when a hand softly cups her elbow. 

“Hey,” Eve says quietly, eyes swimming with concern when Villanelle looks up. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Konstantin has been in an accident, I-” Villanelle realises she’s still speaking in Russian so shakes her head, trying to dejumble her mind as emotion threatens to mix it up further. “Konstantin has been in an accident, I have to go.”

Eve’s eyes widen and she pulls Villanelle away from her client who’s trying to give them privacy by looking anywhere but at the two of them. 

“I can drive you.” Eve murmurs. “Let me-”

“No.” Villanelle shakes her head, then bends to grab her bag from the floor by the tattoo bed. “No I’ll get a taxi, I do not know how long I will be there. I have to go.”

“I’ll call you?”

She hears Eve like she’s at a distance, and nods numbly as she turns to leave, her mind now on nothing but the man who has somehow become one of the only two people in her life she can trust. 

——

Front door keys clanging on her marble countertop, Villanelle lets out a tired sigh. She checks her watch. It’s gone half two in the morning. 

Konstantin is okay. Everything is okay. 

There had been an accident. Konstantin has been driving and someone lost control of their car and crashed into his. The car was wrecked and he was rushed to hospital, and then Irina’s school was called. By the time Villanelle and Irina got to the hospital Konstantin was in surgery, getting a metal pole put  in his calf to help the badly broken bone heal straight. They waited while he recovered and were there when he woke up, groggy and very sore but otherwise okay. He is okay. 

They made arrangements for Irina to stay at a friend’s house for the night until her mother returned from business the following day, so after Villanelle had dropped the teenager off, she could go home herself.

God, she’s tired. 

But also not tired?

Her body aches for sleep. She wants to lie down and stay down for days, her muscles and joints craving some kind of comfort, but her brain is awake. 

Her thoughts are rushing a thousand miles a minute. Konstantin could have died. She could have lost him, her first friend, her family.

Villanelle wills the tears away. She has not cried yet and she will not start. She is not a crier, never has been; it just doesn’t solve anything for her. 

A faint buzz from deep in her bag brings her back to the present. She’s not looked at it since picking up Irina, too panicked to think of anything other than Konstantin and his daughter. She pulls it out and taps the screen. 

Seven messages from Eve. 

If Villanelle was in any other mood, she’d be delighted at the attention. But right now she can only manage a small smile as she unlocks her phone. 

_ Eve: Hey, just checking in. I hope you and Irina got to the hospital okay. I hope Konstantin is doing okay. X _

_ Eve: Hey, hope everything is okay. Thinking about you. X _

_ Eve: I’m sorry if these are annoying, I realise you have something a lot more important going on. Don’t reply if you don’t want to! _

_ Eve: Not that I’m assuming you’re even reading these right now or anything. I just mean if you are then do whatever you want. Oh my god this is literally not important right now I’m so sorry I hope you’re okay xxx _

_ Eve: Hey, it’s been a few hours, just checking in again and letting you know I’m thinking of all three of you. X  _

_ Eve: Do you want me to make some dinner for if you come back? I don’t know what’s happening but I feel like you’ve probably not eaten and that if you do come back, you should eat. I’ll make enough for Irina too.  _

_ Eve: Okay I made bad food so I called for takeout instead, I’ll keep it hot just in case. Sorry for bombarding you. I really do hope everything is okay. I hope Konstantin is okay. X _

Villanelle shakes her head and smiles a little more. 

Eve is so weird. 

Villanelle: What did you try to make? 

The reply is almost instant.

_Eve: Fuck, are you back? Is Konstantin okay? Are you okay?_

Villanelle sighs and rubs her eyes before heading upstairs. 

Villanelle: He will be okay. Bring me over some of that food? Irina isn’t here but I will eat her portion too. 

_Eve: I’ll be right there x_

Villanelle stares down at the little pixelated x as she sheds her wrinkled clothes. A kiss would be nice now. Some comfort. Would Eve be okay with just kissing? Villanelle is too tired to dwell on it. 

She slips into comfier clothes and piles her hair up in a messy bun before collapsing onto the sofa. 

——

She hears the door open from below, Eve using the spare key Villanelle has given her a month ago, then the rustle of bags in the kitchen and her cupboards opening and closing. Footsteps on the stairs follow shortly, and Villanelle curls herself up into a ball to make room for Eve on the sofa.

Eve doesn’t look tired when she walks in, plates in hand. She looks wired, actually, eyes bright and concerned when she spots Villanelle curled up against the cushions. 

Eve stops in place and sighs. 

“Hey, Vil.” She says quietly. 

“Hi.” Villanelle replies, hands tucked under her chin, sleeves pulled up over her fingers. “What food did you bring?”

Eve sputters out a laugh and shakes her head, moving into the room and putting the plates down on the coffee table along with cutlery. 

“McDonald’s.” Eve shrugs, smiling. “Chicken nuggets and fries. Served on a plate to seem a little fancier.”

Villanelle grins and props herself up. 

“It’s almost 3am. I do not need fancy.” She grabs a nugget and looks at Eve, snack frozen midway to her mouth. “Thank you, Eve.”

Eve simply shrugs again in response, then her face changes back to show concern. 

“What happened? Is Konstantin… how is he?”

Villanelle chews the chicken nugget slowly as she tries to wrangle her emotions back in line at the mention of Konstantin’s name. She swallows. 

“He is going to be okay. It was a car crash. He was unconscious and they were worried his spine or brain was injured.” Villanelle twists her fingers together, and Eve sits on the sofa next to her, watching her with warm brown eyes. “They did scans, and his brain and back are okay. But his leg was badly broken, and his ribs. They had to put a metal pole in his leg.”

“Jesus.” Eve breathes. Villanelle nods slightly. 

“Yeah. We waited for hours. Eventually we got to see him. He was… he looked so…  _ broken _ .” 

Her eyes swim with tears and she looks up, blinking them away, refusing to cry in front of Eve, let alone cry at all. Her head drops back down at the feel of a hand resting softly on her knee. Eve is squeezing gently, comforting. Villanelle takes a deep breath. 

“He is fine. He is very bruised and has a lot of cuts, and he is going to have a very cool scar on his leg. He asked if Irina had at least asked for homework before rushing to the hospital from school.”

She chuckles at the memory, then grabs a fistful of fries and shoves then in her mouth. Eve seems to understand that Villanelle is done talking. 

“I’m so relieved.” She says sincerely. “I was so worried. About all of you. Are you… are you okay, Vil?”

“I am fine.” Villanelle says blankly after swallowing the fries. 

Eve continues to stare at her, so Villanelle darts her gaze away, looking at the remaining fries. 

“You know it’s okay to not be, right?”

Villanelle hesitates, part of her wanting to fight Eve on that but in the end too exhausted to bother, so she fills her mouth with fries again, still looking at the plate of food. 

Eve sighs. 

“When it’s healed, and if he wants it, I’ll tattoo his scar. I do a lot of scar work, I’ve covered up a tonne of surgery scars.” Villanelle peeks up at Eve again through her lashes as the other woman speaks. “He can have whatever he wants, running up the scar. Free of charge.”

And fuck, Villanelle’s eyes are watering again and her throat feels thick and it’s so so  _ late _ , and Eve is here with junk food and kind words and generous offers and, and it is a lot. 

“Sweetheart,” Eve murmurs, hand moving from Villanelle’s knee to the hand resting there, covering it softly with her own. “It’s okay to cry. You’re exhausted. I’m not going to judge you. I would never.”

Villanelle watches through glazed eyes as Eve lifts her hand and lightly kisses the backs of Villanelle’s knuckles, and she feels a tear run down her cheek at the tenderness of the touch. 

Villanelle tries to turn her head away, blocking Eve’s gaze from the treacherous tears now dampening her cheeks, but then there’s a hand gently cupping her jaw and bringing her face back around, and she wants to resist and snap but her face is quickly pressed into a cotton covered collarbone that smells purely of  _ Eve _ . 

And she cries. 

Eve runs a hand soothingly up and down her back as she sobs quietly, and with each delicate touch Villanelle feels less humiliated by crying. Eve’s other hand finds her hair and she runs her fingers through it gently, and Villanelle feels herself relax, feels herself start to melt into the warm embrace of this woman who is here and is just, is everything to her. 

When the sobs subside and she’s left with only soft hiccups, she lifts her head away from Eve’s chest and rubs at her eyes and cheeks with the sleeves of her hoody. At some point they’d leaned back against the couch, their sides against the plush cushions. Villanelle tilts her head to the side to rest on one. 

“What food did you try to make?”

Eve barks a laugh and rolls her eyes. 

“I tried to make mac n cheese.”

Villanelle furrows her brow in confusion. 

“Eve, that is like the easiest meal to make…”

Eve laughs again and buries her face in her hands. 

“I know! I am awful.”

“You are not awful.” Villanelle says quietly, reaching out with one hand to hold Eve’s. “You are lovely.”

Eve stares at her as her cheeks flush softly, then looks away from Villanelle with a smile, staring at their linked fingers instead.

“I mean, you didn’t see the state of the hob afterwards but sure, I’m lovely.”

Villanelle smiles and squeezes Eve’s fingers. Eve looks back up at her, gaze suddenly happy. 

“I really am glad Konstantin is okay. I’m really glad you’re okay. I know how much he means to you.”

It’s 3am. She’s tired. Eve brought her junk food. Her hand and eyes are so warm. 

“He is my family.” Villanelle murmurs. “I have my parents, and they love me, but they are happy with standard phone calls and seeing me once a year. Konstantin is actually interested in how I am, how my work is. He listens to me talk about plants and poison. He buys me birthday presents. He can tell when I am happy, and when I am sad.”

She has no tears left, but she rubs hard at her eyes all of the same, Eve’s hand still clutched in her own. 

“I  _ need _ him.”

Eve’s other hand is against her cheek now, soothing the flushed skin with the pad of her thumb. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Eve says quietly. “We all need someone like that. It’s not bad to care.”

She looks back at Eve, dragging her eyes away from her lap, and gets caught in the warmth there. 

It’s 3am. 

“Kiss me?”

Villanelle speaks it just above a whisper, heart twisting a little in her chest. She’s asked Eve to kiss her before, asked Eve to kiss her all over, everywhere, in much more intimate ways than this.

But this. This feels different. 

It feels like… something important. A turning point.

And then Eve’s lips are on hers, a firm press of softness, their shape  _ made _ to fit Villanelle’s. The hand stays on her cheek, their linked hands stay linked, and they kiss. 

It’s warm, and it’s slow, and Eve controls it so perfectly, allowing Villanelle to just relax and  _ let go _ _. _

There’s a flutter of nerves in her stomach at the thought of Eve trying for something more, because as much as she loves having sex with Eve, she just can’t right now. She’s tired and sad and just can’t, and she’s worried about having to tell Eve no. 

But minutes pass. 

More minutes pass. 

And they’re kissing, just kissing. 

The hand has moved to her hair but it strokes, it doesn’t tug or pull. It smooths over blonde locks, comforting and soothing, and their hands stay linked on their laps, fingers occasionally unlinking to play gently with each other’s palms and fingertips. 

They’re kissing. 

Just kissing. 

And as Villanelle sinks further into the bliss and the peace, she thinks that maybe, maybe, this is the green flag she has been looking for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dad had a pole in his calf! I was so fascinated with the scar as a kid. He got the pole removed a few years ago so the scar is even stronger. He’s going to get it tattooed eventually. Anyway here’s wonderwall?


	17. Echo of Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long boi! 
> 
> I did a lot of research into Korean holiday food and familiar terminology but if any of it is wrong I apologise, please correct me and I’ll change it :)

Eve wakes up to warm skin, soft hair, and the smell of rose and orange blossom.

Villanelle is facing away from her but her head is sharing Eve’s pillow, blonde hair glinting in the morning sun from the window, curtains open after being forgotten in the early hours.

Eve’s legs are tucked behind Villanelle’s and her hand is draped loosely over her ribs, and when she stirs the shift of her arm against Villanelle’s t-shirt drags a mumble from the blonde.

Eve stretches, then gently takes her hand away from Villanelle and rolls onto her back, reaching for her phone, but within seconds she’s being wrapped up in warm sleepy arms.

“Morning.” Eve says, voice husky from sleep, gently stroking Villanelle’s hand resting against her stomach. Villanelle just hums in response, and Eve smiles. She checks her calendar for the day and is relieved to see she doesn’t have any appointments until the afternoon. She sends off a quick text to Elena, then focuses on the half asleep woman clinging to her.

“Hey,” Eve says softly, patting the hand on her stomach, “you wanna go get breakfast?”

There’s another muffled hum and then Villanelle’s chin is against Eve’s shoulder, nuzzling into her hair.

“You smell like lemon drizzle cake.”

Eve chuckles and turns her head, presses her lips against Villanelle’s cheek who sighs happily.

“Lemon and cocoa butter shampoo for curls.” Eve says, kissing Villanelle’s hairline. “So? Breakfast?”

Villanelle’s sigh is a little less happy the second time.

“I don't really feel like going anywhere today.” Villanelle mumbles into Eve’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be.” Eve says, and she rolls onto her side and shuffles until they’re face to face. “I just want you to have a relaxed day, after yesterday.”

Villanelle stares at Eve, eyes tired but bright, the corners of her mouth curling up into a small smile.

“Okay.” She says quietly. Then she frowns. “What time is it? Don’t you have work?”

“Not until this afternoon. I’ve asked Elena to go in early and open up.”

Villanelle reaches out and gently tucks a loose curl away from Eve’s face, fingertips lingering on her temple.

“For me?”

“Well, yeah.” Eve says shrugging as best she can against the sheets. “Of course. I’ve told Elena I owe her one, it’s fine.”

Villanelle stares at her for a few moments longer, eyes darting between Eve’s, almost searching, and then she smiles and leans forward, kissing Eve softly.

“Do you think you could handle making some toast?”

Eve laughs lightly against Villanelle’s lips, kissing her once more before pulling away and sitting up.

“After last night’s mac n cheese, I’m not sure. Nothing is safe from me.” She rubs at her eyes and then looks down at Villanelle. She looks so small, cuddled under the duvet, blonde hair spread around her head like a messy halo and the slightest touch of tired shadows beneath her eyes. Eve sighs. “I’m sure I can rustle something up.”

Villanelle smiles sweetly and lifts a hand to touch Eve’s wrist lightly in thanks.

“But I can’t promise it won’t be terrible. Or burnt. Or edible.” Eve adds, grinning when Villanelle rolls her eyes and pulls the duvet up over her head.

——

Eve remembers a while back, maybe a few weeks ago, Villanelle mentioning something about wanting to go on a picnic. Eve had agreed, but the weather plunged straight into late Autumn from then on, showering the city in rain and turning the crisps brown leaves on the ground to mush on the ground.

The picnic was postponed, and Eve can still remember the dimming spark in Villanelle’s eyes when she’d realised it wasn’t going to happen until the weather cleared up.

Villanelle is upstairs on the phone to Konstantin, calling as soon as she knew he was allowed access to his phone again, as Eve stands and surveys the sky. It’s a bright day in late November, cold but crisp, and Eve thinks this might just work.

She starts quickly, grabbing packets of crisps and popcorn and shoving them into a tote bag. She takes some apples from the fruit bowl on Villanelle’s table and makes quick work of chopping them up, sliding them into a tub she finds in Villanelle’s cupboard. Opening the fridge she finds some open packets of meat and cheese, so Eve grabs those too along with half a baguette from the bread bin and a sharp knife from the drawer. They all go in the tote bag along with two bottles of orange juice.

Taking another look out the window and judging the grass as dry, Eve jogs upstairs and grabs a blanket from the couch, Villanelle flashing a curious look at her while she paces the living, but Eve simply grins innocently in return before running back downstairs.

She shrugs on her coat and beanie hat and takes the blanket and bag outside, opening and closing the door quietly so as not to rouse any suspicion from Villanelle.

On a sunny patch of grass, Eve unfurls the blanket and starts laying out the food. Happy with her little setup, she heads back inside to wait for Villanelle to finish her call.

It’s only five minutes later that she hears the soft Russian words fade to silence, and she gives Villanelle another two to herself before heading upstairs.

“Hey,” Eve says, sticking her head around the living room door frame and giving Villanelle a small smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Villanelle replies quietly, looking up at Eve. “He’s just tired and sore.”

“Okay.” Eve nods. “I’m glad he’s doing okay.”

Eve pauses, letting the silence linger until Villanelle stands up from the couch and clapping her hands together,

“Anyway,” she says, her voice a little brighter. “Why did you steal my blanket?”

——

Eve studies Villanelle’s face as the blonde stares down at the food and blanket.

“It’s that picnic you wanted.” Eve says. “I realise it’s fucking freezing out here but it’s a beautiful clear day, and you said you didn’t want to go anywhere, so I thought we could just… do something here.”

Villanelle still hasn’t said anything, but Eve can see bright happiness in her eyes, and it soothes the nervous beat of her heart. She sits down on the blanket and reaches for the tub of fruit, peeling the lid off and shoving a slice into her mouth.

She offers a piece to Villanelle, who still stands, staring down.

“Apple?” Eve says around her mouthful.

That breaks Villanelle out of whatever moment she was having and she laughs, taking the apple slice and dropping down to sit beside Eve, dragging her coat closer around herself.

“I do not know what to say.” Villanelle says, chewing thoughtfully on the apple while staring at Eve with focussed eyes. “I have- there are a lot of words trying to get out right now.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” Eve says with a smile, twisting the top off one of the bottles of juice. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.

“Nice…” Villanelle mumbles to herself.

Eve watches her for a moment longer, watches something swirl in those hazel eyes, and she almost asks what’s on Villanelle’s mind, but then the blonde’s face changes and she’s grinning again, grabbing the knife and bread.

“I see nothing here had to be cooked.”

Eve rolls her eyes and smiles.

——

“Mom, cut it out.”

“What? I am helping. You need help.”

“I do not need help, I’m doing fine! Just… just go sit down.”

“You are doing it wrong. I am helping.”

“Mom, I am  _ fine _ .”

“The potatoes have been frying for 10 minutes.”

“Shit.”

Eve turns back to the hob and quickly takes the pot of oil and sweet potatoes off the heat. 

“Okay… okay. The potatoes  _ should _ be fine. Shit.”

“ _ Yamjeonhi isseo _ .”

“This is my house, I can curse if I want.”

Her mom gives her a look that has Eve feeling 14 again, and she shrinks a little under the gaze. 

“Sorry umma.”

The small woman nods with a raised eyebrow directed at Eve, then shuffles over in her big slippers and hip bumps Eve away from the cooker. 

“I will finish the candied sweet potatoes, you can do the bulgogi.”

“What!” Eve protests, only just stopping herself from stamping her foot. “But that’s the easiest dish!”

“Exactly, Eve. Get your skillet ready.”

Eve huffs but does as she’s told, searching through her cupboard to find the old cast iron skillet she hasn’t used since the last time her mom was here. 

Despite her moody teenage behaviour, she’s actually delighted that her mom is here with her. She comes every Christmas for one week, and it’s one of two times a year that Eve gets to spend time with her. She’s bossy, controlling, pushy and stubborn, but Eve wouldn’t be who she is today without her. 

This is their typical Christmas Day. Eve trying to cook classic Korean holiday food, and her mom eventually making her leave the room or make the easiest dish. 

Eve doesn’t blame her, really. She certainly didn’t get any of her mom’s incredible cooking skills. 

This December 25th is no different, with the morning spent opening a few presents and then immediately getting stuck into hours of prepping and cooking. 

Eve is so excited to eat proper homemade Korean food again. 

And she’s excited about something else, too. Although she’s trying to tamper that a little. 

Villanelle is coming over this afternoon.

To have Christmas dinner. 

With Eve and her mom. 

It’s not a big deal. This isn’t a ‘meet the parents’ situation. It can’t be, because she and Villanelle aren’t dating, they’re not a couple. 

It’s just a best friend thing. Villanelle doesn’t go home to Russia for Christmas, she goes for New Year for just a couple of days instead, and usually spends Christmas with Konstantin and his family. 

But this year she’s splitting the day down the middle. Konstantin’s until the afternoon, Eve’s until the late evening. Eve invited her. Because she’s her friend. 

She’s excited for Villanelle to meet her mom. 

Just… who doesn’t want their best friend to meet their mom, y’know? 

Something tells her she’s making excuses for the butterflies in her stomach that flutter stronger every minute closer to 3pm. But she ignores it. 

She’s getting good at that, these days. 

Eve checks the clock on the wall and sees that Villanelle will be there in ten minutes. 

Her heart skips. 

_ Ignore, ignore.  _

“Am I waiting to put the beef on until we’re sat down?” Eve asks her mom, even though she knows the answer is yes. 

“Yes.” 

Eve smiles to herself. 

“Okay. I’ll set the table, Villanelle will be here soon.”

“I look forward to meeting your friend, Eve.” Her mom says, shifting a pan around to brown the syrup she’s making. “She sounds nice.”

“She  _ is _ nice. Really polite and generous.” Eve says while collecting a stack of plates and serving dishes. “Smart too, amazing at languages. And cooking, actually. And if you have any questions about plants or gardening then fire away, she knows just about everything there is to know about botany.”

Her mom is staring at her, lips curving upwards at the corners slightly. Eve frowns a little. 

“What?”

“ _ Aniyo, aniyo _ .”

Eve frowns for a little longer but her mom just stares her down until Eve eventually turns away to lay out the cutlery. 

She gets the bag of marinated beef for the bulgogi and sets it on the counter by the cooker along with the skillet, ready to fry it up when they’re all sat down to eat. 

She puts some Christmas crackers out and lights a couple candles, and as she’s deciding which of her bottles of wine goes best with korean food, there’s a faraway knock at the studio’s front door. 

“Okay, she’s here, okay.”

Eve stands in the kitchen, frozen in place for some reason, until her mom pokes her in the back with a pointed finger. 

“I did not raise you to be impolite, Eve.” Her mom says with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Go.”

“Sorry, right.”

Eve rushes through the kitchen and then her studio, skidding to a halt near the door and grinning at Villanelle through the glass. 

When she swings the door open to welcome her, the words catch in her throat when she sees what Villanelle is wearing. 

Villanelle’s sweater is big and grey, and features an illustration of Christopher Walken surrounded by snowflakes. 

Eve finds her voice. 

“Does your sweater say ‘Walken in a winter wonderland’?”

“Yeah! It is funny, isn’t it. He is a good actor.” Villanelle says happily before stepping inside, a large bag held in one hand. “Merry Christmas, Eve.”

“Merry Christmas, Vil.” Eve says with a smile, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to Villanelle’s cheek. 

Villanelle looks surprised but happy when Eve pulls back, biting her lip to contain her growing grin, and Eve looks at her, takes her in for just a moment. 

“Eve?”

Eve starts at the sound of her mom shouting from the kitchen. 

“So. Ready to meet my mom?”

“I am.” Villanelle says, following Eve as they make their way through the studio. “I have learnt some Korean.”

“Really?” Eve says, looking over her shoulder in Villanelle in surprise. 

But there’s no time to answer, as Villanelle is already making a beeline for Eve’s mom. She greets her in perfect korean, and Eve simply stands back and watches with an open mouth. After a few minutes of Villanelle chatting away in Korean and Eve’s mom looking more and more impressed, Eve clears her throat. 

“Okay, enough pleasantries, Vil would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, I brought some champagne!” Villanelle says, reaching into her bag of goodies. “A nice bottle. It is Christmas, after all.”

Eve fetches glasses and then pours them all a drink, staring at the unfamiliar label on the bottle and noting it’s definitely not something you can buy in Tesco. She smiles fondly at Villanelle’s classic blend of generosity and showing off. 

“Eve, time for the bulgogi.”

“Okay, you sit down, umma.”

Eve’s mom sits down at the table and immediately turns to Villanelle while Eve puts the skillet on the stove to get it hot. 

“So, Villanelle, Eve says you are good at languages. And that you are smart, and generous, and polite, and a good cook, and-”

“Okay mom, jeez, she gets it!” Eve spins on the spot and stares at her mom hard, pointedly avoiding Villanelle who she knows is sat there with a shit eating grin right now. “Just… ask her about work, or something.”

Eve turns back to the hob and tips the marinated beef onto the hot skillet, letting it sizzle. 

“Okay. Villanelle, you are a florist, yes?”

“I am.” Villanelle says. “I started my business five years ago, and I love it. I get to meet people and help them create special memories, and I get to be surrounded by nature all day. And I get to work next door to Eve, which is pretty good too.”

Eve grins down at the beef hissing on the hob. 

“Wonderful.” Eve’s mom says through what Eve knows is a smile. “You will have to show me around tomorrow.”

“Of course, I would love to!” Villanelle says eagerly. “Eve tells me you are a keen gardener, maybe we can swap some tips.”

“Oh yes, Eve says you are very good at gardening, and that know almost everything about plants, and flowers, and trees, and-”

“Mom, stop!” 

——

Food finished and a bottle of champagne and wine later, the three women are sat comfortably in the living room, Eve and her mom on the sofa and Villanelle curled up on the small armchair in the corner. 

“I think I’ll go read for a while then head to bed.” Eve’s mom says, kissing Eve on the cheek and then rising to her feet. Villanelle jumps up immediately and crosses the room. She takes one of the older lady’s hands in her own and clasps it. 

“It has been so lovely to meet you, Eun.” says Villanelle. “Thank you for letting me join you two for Christmas.”

“We welcome anyone who wants to join.” Eve’s mom says, and Eve watches as she brings her free hand up and presses it over Villanelle’s. “It has been good to get to know you. I can see why Eve talks about you so much.”

Eve tries hard not to blush as Villanelle slowly turns her head to stare at her, that surprised but happy look from earlier on her face again. 

“Really!” Villanelle drawls, eyes sparkling, and Eve rolls her eyes with a small smile. 

“Really.” Eve’s mom says with a light laugh, dragging Villanelle’s attention back to her. “She has a lot to say about you. She must like you a lot.”

“Goodnight mom love you bye sleep well!” Eve says loudly, jumping up from the sofa and guiding her mother gently towards the small spare room. She can practically feel Villanelle’s smug stare burning through the back of her shirt. 

“She is nice, Eve.” Her mom says once Eve closes the door behind them, watching as the older woman walks around her bed to retrieve her book from the dresser. “I like her.”

“Me too.” Eve says, not really thinking. 

“I know.”

Eve comes back to herself a little at that, realising what it sounds like they’re saying. 

“Anyway, goodnight umma. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight Eve.”

She closes the door quietly behind her and turns back to her living room to find Villanelle now sprawled across the sofa, smirking up at Eve. 

“You talk about me, huh?”

Eve scoffs as she walks towards the sofa, dropping onto it tiredly, giving Villanelle only seconds to lift her legs out of the way. 

“Don’t let it get to your head.” Eve grumbles, but she can’t help but smile a little. 

Villanelle sits up and leans against Eve’s shoulder, taking one of Eve’s hands into her own and playing with her fingers. 

“I like your mother.”

Eve leans her head against the top of Villanelle’s. 

“She likes you too.”

“Good.” Villanelle says quietly. “Because she is  _ hot _ , I see where you get it.”

Eve shoves Villanelle away from her and starts slapping at her arm while Villanelle tries not to laugh too loudly, and suddenly her slaps are meeting a cushion that Villanelle is using as a shield, giggling manically behind it. 

“You. Are. Dead.” Eve pants, each word punctuated by a punch to the cushion, but Villanelle just laughs harder.

“I guess you do not want your present then?”

Eve immediately stops hitting the cushion and sits back. 

“Present?” She says curiously, all fight in her forgotten as she tilts her head. “You got me a present?”

“Well, duh.” Villanelle laughs, dropping the cushion and reaching to grab her bag from the floor. “It’s Christmas!”

“Oh.” Eve says with a small smile. “Well, I got you something too, actually.”

Villanelle’s eyes widen in excitement. 

“Where is it? I want it, go get it now and we can open them at the same time!”

Eve chuckles as she hops off the couch, crossing the room quickly and grabbing the wrapped gift from her desk drawer. She drops back onto the sofa, crossing her legs and facing Villanelle who adjusts herself to sit the same, both sets of knees touching between them. 

“Mine isn’t much, just a little something seeing as you buy everything you want yourself.” Eve says with a smile, handing over the flat present wrapped in shiny green paper finished with gold ribbon. 

“I will love it whatever it is.” Villanelle says confidently, taking the gift. “Unless it is bath soaps, because that is a cop out.”

Eve laughs, and Villanelle grins as she presents Eve with a box wrapped in sparkling silver paper, an oversized silver bow sat on top. 

“Open them on three?”

Villanelle nods excitedly. 

“One, two,  _ three _ .” 

Eve tears the paper off and gasps at what sits in her lap. It’s a new sketchbook, a Smythson Portebello sketchbook, which Eve knows costs around £175. On the bottom right corner, in metallic gold, ‘EP’ is debossed neatly. There’s a pencil with the pad, but there’s another gift alongside the sketchbook, a Sakura Pigma Micron pen, and again Eve knows it costs about £30 for just the one. 

“Holy shit Villanelle, this must have cost a fortune!” She’s still staring down at her new drawing tools when she says it, running a fingertip over her initials. “God,  _ thank you _ , this is amazing. Jeez, and what I got you cost like  _ nothing _ , you really shouldn’t have.”

Eve does look up then, realising Villanelle hasn’t said a word since opening her gift. She feels worry shift in her stomach. 

“Is it… do you like it?” She asks Villanelle, suddenly unsure. “I know it’s not much, but-” 

She’s cut off by Villanelle’s lips quickly pressing against hers and staying there for a moment, long enough for Eve’s eyes to flutter closed, and then Villanelle is pulling away with a look Eve can only categorise as awe on her face. 

“You did this for me?”

Eve nods, then shrugs shyly. 

“I mean, it’s just a drawing.” Eve says, looking down at Villanelle’s gift. Eve had spent an evening drawing the two of them, an illustrated version of a photo Villanelle had taken one night when they’d been lounging on the sofa eating sweets and watching movies. In it, Villanelle has crafted herself a white chocolate moustache, and Eve is laughing wildly in the background with her own chocolate beard. It’s a large illustration, and Eve got it framed in wood to match the tones Villanelle has in her own home. 

“It is more than that.” Villanelle says, tracing her finger across the lines of illustration Eve’s hair. “It is special. It is a memory, and you took the time to recreate it.”

Villanelle looks up with wide eyes and an even wider smile. 

“You are so wonderful. Thank you, Eve.” She murmurs softly. “I love it.”

The look on Villanelle’s face and the words coming so sweetly from her mouth makes Eve’s heart skip, and it takes her out of the softness of the moment. She feels… she  _ feels _ . 

And it worries her. 

Villanelle has gone back to staring at the drawing and Eve feels the echo of the kiss against her lips, but this time it feels worrying, almost scary, the way it tingles. 

It’s like for the first time in months, she’s recognising what all of this means. 

She feels… she  _ feels _ . 

And she remembers. 

And the combination of the two leave Eve feeling sick.

——

January is here and the studio is quiet. It always is around this time of year, with people having spent all their spare cash on gifts for loved ones rather than tattoos for themselves.

Eve realises that there really doesn’t need to be three of them there today, not when there is so little business.

“Hugo? Elena? Do either of you want to head home early?”

“I’d rather not.” Says Hugo, running his fingers through his hair. “I need the extra pennies for my trip to Italy next month. I’m going large.”

“I can’t.” Elena replies, arranging ink bottles in her corner. “I have a client and we probably won’t finish up until closing.”

“Okay.” Eve says, checking her own schedule for the fifth time. “Okay, well I might as well go then, no point just sitting around.”

“Going to see Villanelle again?”

Eve pauses in clearing her station up to narrow her eyes at Hugo.

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Hugo says innocently, shrugging one shoulder. “You two spend a  _ lot _ of time together, that’s all.”

“She’s one of my closest friends, of course we spend time together.” Eve says, trying to force her defences down. “Anyway, who cares? What’s your deal?”

Hugo lifts both eyebrows and mouths a clear ‘wow’ as he looks back down at his phone, but Eve is annoyed now, and a little curious, and a little… nervous. She feels the echo of Christmas in her lungs. 

“No, seriously Hugo, what is it? Why the comment?”

Hugo sighs dramatically and clicks his phone screen off, focussing fully on Eve.

“I have a close friend. His name is Dennis. We watch the rugby together and have been on three lads holidays, and we try to meet for a drink once a week.”

“Okay?” Eve says, frowning.

“And,” Hugo says, smirk starting to tug at his lips. “I have another close friend. Her name is Chloe. At the moment I see her between once and three times a week. We go for drinks, we hang out at hers, we hang out at mine...”

Eve doesn’t see where this is going or what relevance it has to anything, and she sighs frustratedly. 

“And?” 

“And,” Hugo says, fully smirking now, and Eve feels her stomach twist with concern. “And, we have sex a  _ lot _ .” 

The twist grows in strength, and Eve swallows.

“What are you getting at?” Eve says sharply in an attempt to buy herself some time, having literally no idea what to say.

“What am I getting at?” Hugo says, mirth in his eyes. “Come on, Eve.”

“Babe,” Elena pipes up from the corner, and  _ shit, _ Eve had forgotten she was even here. “Are you and Villanelle… you know.”

What is she supposed to say?

She knows Villanelle wouldn’t care. She’d gladly inform everyone of what she and Eve get up to if given the chance, she knows Villanelle well enough by now to be sure of that. But she hadn’t. Why had Villanelle not told anyone? Not even Elena?

Was Villanelle ashamed? No, there’s no way. Villanelle makes it clear how into Eve she is. So what is it?

Has Villanelle been doing it for Eve? Stopping herself from talking about it because she senses Eve wouldn’t want people to know?

If that is the case, then Villanelle is even more thoughtful than Eve already knew.

But it’s also… it’s worrying.

Why would Villanelle not tell people just for Eve? Villanelle isn’t the kind of person to hold herself back from doing exactly what she wants to do. For fuck’s sake, the woman outed both Elena’s and Kenny’s feelings for each other without so much as a second thought. It’s just what she does. So why hasn’t she now?

Does Villanelle… care about Eve to the point where she’s doing things to make Eve more comfortable? It should be a warm feeling but instead it leaves Eve feeling a panicky cold. What does Villanelle think they are? Friends usually know if their friends have ‘friends with benefits’. It’s the kind of thing you tell mates about.

But Villanelle hasn’t.

And shit, neither has Eve.

What does  _ Eve _ think they are?

“How often did you say you see Chloe?”

Eve is surprised at her own question but keeps her features hard, looking back at Hugo, ignoring Elena for the moment.

“Twice a week, ish?” Hugo says with a shrug. “The sex is  _ very _ good. Plus, she’s fun.”

Eve furrows her brow further.

“Would you ever make her a picnic?”

Hugo looks as confused as Eve feels. He looks to Elena then back at Eve, then runs his hand through his hair again.

“Uh, if I thought I’d be getting a blowjob afterwards, sure…” He says slowly. “But no, not casually, or whatever. Seems like a lot of care and effort for just a friend I’m sleeping with.”

His words sink like a rock in Eve’s stomach.

Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . 

That night five years ago comes flying at her, and suddenly it’s the only thing she can think of when she pictures Villanelle. The excitement, then the disappointment, then the embarrassment, then the  _ hurt _ . She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let things get to this, and here she was.

The bike ride and the bakery trips and the drinks and movies and dinners in and dinners out. The night spent just kissing. The picnic. Christmas. Every night spent spooning and breakfast spent smiling since then. 

They’re dating. Villanelle and Eve are dating.

Eve thinks she might cry.

“Okay, well, you’re being ridiculous.” Eve manages to say, her voice still hard. “There is nothing happening between Villanelle and I.” She directs that last part at Hugo and Elena, Elena who is staring at her with a soft sort of look.

“Okay.” Elena says sincerely, nodding resolutely.

“Oh come off it Elena,” Hugo starts. “She’s-”

“Shut the fuck up Hugo or I will find this Chloe person and tell her about the 2018 Christmas party.” Elena barks, and god Eve is suddenly glad that her friend  _ is _ still here.

“You wouldn’t.’ Hugo practically snarls, and then they’re bickering, poking fun at each other and making threats and it’s given Eve an out, she can get out and away from this and- and what? Where will she go?

She could go into her kitchen and stew in her thoughts and feelings, let them fester and build up until Eve feels infected with them. 

Or.

Or, she could go and talk to Villanelle. See if she can work out what’s going on. Maybe Villanelle doesn’t agree with Eve? What if Villanelle is just like this. What if this isn’t like Chloe and Hugo, what if this is just what life is like when you sleep with Villanelle? Extra care and softness, but still really just about sex at the core of it.

She should calm down first though. She should head into hers and just take some deep breaths, listen to a bit of classical music, drink some wine, relax. No point reacting while she’s this wound up, it won’t lead to anything good. She’ll head into hers and calm down.

Of course, instead of that, she walks straight through the studio and leaves, turns right on the street and walks the seven metres to Garden of Eden.

——

There’s a woman talking to Villanelle when Eve pushes inside.

She’s fairly tall with cropped dark hair, and is wearing a very smart full length wool coat in deep navy over the top of a crisp white blouse and tailored grey trousers.

She doesn’t even glance at Eve when she steps through the door, but Villanelle does and her eyes light up. She lifts up a finger to indicate she’ll only be a second, before turning back to the woman.

“So it has been a busy season then?”

“Quite.” The woman says with a clipped voice. “Lot’s of flu cases, a few snow and ice related accidents. You know, the usual sort of thing for winter.”

Through the anxiety swirling sickeningly in her blood, Eve is able to spare a thought to how bizarre this conversation seems to be. She looks the woman up and down again, trying to figure out what she might do and why she’s here with Villanelle.

“Of course, the usual.” Villanelle says nonchalantly with a one shouldered shrug. “Do you need to increase any orders?”

“Yes, a few more white rose arrangements per week please, I imagine that will be enough. Anything else and I will contact you.” The woman pulls her phone out of her pocket and slips on an expensive looking pair of glasses before staring at the screen. “I may need to make a custom request on behalf of a client next week, but I will let you know as soon as they confirm. Can’t rush the living, you know.”

Villanelle finishes typing something out on her iPad and nods like she does know, and maybe she does, but Eve hasn’t got a fucking clue at this point. She shifts in place and the movement seems to remind Villanelle that Eve is still there.

“Oh, Eve, come meet my friend.”

Villanelle is smiling widely, professionalism momentarily forgotten as she waves Eve over. Eve would rather do anything but meet a friend of Villanelle’s right now but she goes over to the pair and stands next to the blonde.

“Eve, this is Carolyn, she runs the funeral parlour on the next road over. I supply her funeral flowers at a slightly lower cost than my competition. We have an arrangement.” 

A funeral director, okay, that makes sense. The smart, dark clothes. The straightforward tone. The careful gaze. Okay.

“What’s the arrangement?” Eve asks, momentarily interested in something other than the nervous beat of her own heart.

“Carolyn Martens, how do you do.” Carolyn completely ignores Eve’s question but holds her hand out towards Eve. “Please do come and see us at C Marten’s Funeral Home if someone you care about dies.”

“I’ll… be sure to do that.” Eve says, looking warily at the other woman. No wonder she and Villanelle were friends.

“And Carolyn, this is Eve.” Villanelle says as Eve shakes Carolyn’s hand. “My girlfriend.”

The world stops.

Eve isn’t sure she remembers how to breathe.

She sees herself sat at a table in a romantic candlelit restaurant on her third glass of red wine, empty bread basket in front of her and whispering waitresses behind her. She sees the humiliation radiate off her in waves as she sits in the wooden chair, trying to hold onto her last shred of dignity.

Carolyn is staring at her. Probably because Eve hasn’t let go of her hand yet.

She drops it like it’s burning her, then turns her head to look at Villanelle.

Villanelle, whose eyes are dimming, so filled with excitement at seeing Eve only minutes before, now going dark and deep and there’s regret there, there’s shock.

“My friend who is a girl.” Villanelle says it lightly, forces a confused look onto her face as she looks between Carolyn and Eve. “Did I not say that right? English is hard sometimes.”

Eve supposes she should feel lucky that this is the second out she’s been given in ten minutes, but all she feels is the cold weight in her stomach and the chill of anxiety in her limbs.

“I see.” Carolyn says in her clipped voice, and Eve can’t tell if she’s just saying that to save the situation, or if she believes Villanelle’s excuse, or if she just doesn’t give a shit, but Eve is grateful for the quick response. “Anyway, I must get going. Good to see you again, Villanelle. Eve.” She nods at the two of them then leaves.

And it’s just the two of them.

Neither says anything.

Eve tries to work out if she’s waiting for Villanelle to speak first but remembers that she came here to talk, to start a conversation.

She opens her mouth but it feels like someone has shoved cotton wool into the insides of her cheeks. Her mouth is dry, her tongue feels thick. Villanelle takes a deep breath in and holds it before blowing it out.

“So, what’s up?”

Eve would appreciate Villanelle’s attempt at normalcy in any other circumstance.

“You know what girlfriend means, Villanelle.”

Villanelle looks down, taps the toes of her trainers together once before looking back up, face blank.

“Maybe I don’t.”

“No,” Eve says, and part of her is finding the frustration from her conversation with Hugo again, dragging it up and using it as fuel. “No, you do know what it means. You called me your girlfriend. Why did you do that?”

“Because… because.” Villanelle says, and she sounds nervous and shy and Eve hasn’t heard her sound quite like this before. It makes the weight in her stomach feel heavier. “We... we go on bike rides, we go for drinks, we watch movies. I met your mother, on  _ Christmas Day _ . You made me a picnic…”

Eve looks away at that, her breathing coming faster as she flexes and curls her fingers repeatedly.

“We have sex, incredible sex, but after we… we hug, and we kiss. Sometimes we  _ just _ kiss. We sleep together, we make each other breakfast, lunch, dinner.”

Eve shakes her head, refusing to look back up at the woman despite her heart screaming at her to do so. She stares at the floor, at Villanelle’s feet, at her own.

“Villanelle-”

“We talk. We talk all the time. I know your ‘favourite food’ is ramen with pork but your actual favourite food is rice crispie cakes. I know how you take your coffee, I know that you brush your teeth before you do anything else in the morning, I know that you only like to talk about politics after 7pm but will willingly talk about cults and sects at any hour of the day.”

Eve does look up now, half amazed and half terrified at how much Villanelle has picked up about her. Villanelle’s eyes are shining and wide and imploring and  _ desperate _ .

“I know you donate to dog charities every month, I know you hate the colour pink but your favourite flowers are pink carnations, I know the texture of baked beans freaks you out, I know you have nightmares about falling.”

“Please-” Eve half attempts to stop Villanelle, but she keeps going. 

“I know you know I love fried chicken and hate mushrooms. You know I can’t talk about politics without having a drink first. You know my favourite flowers are daffodils and you know I’m allergic to pineapple. You know my favourite animals are snakes and you don’t think I’m weird for that. You know I was bad growing up-”

“You weren’t bad.” Eve murmurs just above a whisper. Villanelle chuckles sadly. 

“And you still do not think I was bad, despite all that I’ve told you. You know I love waking up early, you know I have at least fifteen different jars of moisturiser that are all my favourite. You know I refuse to spend less than £50 on an item of clothing but you know I’m not a snob, just a lover of indulgence.”

Eve smiles at that, and Villanelle smiles in return. 

“You know me. I know you. Eve, we… we are good together. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do. We are.” Eve says quietly, but the weight is still pulling her down. “But Villanelle-”

“No, no buts, please.” Villanelle interrupts quickly, stepping towards Eve and taking one of her hands, rubbing her thumb over Eve’s tense knuckles. “We are basically already together. I don’t understand what… what it is that is holding you back from just letting this happen?”

And Eve has been on the verge of melting into Villanelle, until she asks that question. 

“Because you left me.” Eve says, voice empty. She studies their hands, watches Villanelle’s thumb stop rubbing patterns with her thumb.

“I… What?”

“You  _ left _ me.” Eve replies, voice stronger now. “Five years ago, you… you humiliated me, Villanelle.”

She looks up and sees that hazel eyes have turned hard. 

“What are you talking about, Eve?”

Eve pulls her hand out of Villanelle’s grip and frowns at her. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Eve says coldly. “At least do me the decency of not pretending it didn’t happen. It happened, Villanelle.”

Villanelle looks alarmed now and folds her arms. 

“I am not sure what you are remembering,” She says, her own voice cool now. “But I did nothing to you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eve barks, and she’s angry now, angry at Villanelle brushing what happened off and acting like it was nothing. “You stood me up, Villanelle! You invited me to dinner, a romantic restaurant with candles, and you never fucking  _ showed _ ! You acted like you wanted me, like you  _ liked _ me, you made me believe you wanted to give us a shot and be with me and then you didn’t even bother turning up!”

Eve watches through angry tears as Villanelle’s face morphs through shock to confusion to realisation. 

“Eve, I didn’t-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Eve snaps, inwardly cursing herself as she feels a tear roll down her cheek. “You might think it was just some date, or that I’m overreacting, but I’m not. I’m not  _ like _ that. I really fucking liked you Villanelle, and I was so excited to eat dinner with you and get to know you, because I’d never felt anything like what I felt for you before, even after just four weeks…” She trails off and rubs furiously at her eyes and cheeks before continuing. 

“Do you know what the waitresses said, behind my back? After they’d brought me my third glass and the bill, after spending an hour asking if I was okay?” Eve laughs bitterly and shakes her head. “They said ‘she’s too old to be dating anyway, god she must be so embarrassed’. And fuck, I was. So embarrassed and so-” She cuts herself off from saying anymore, and when she looks at Villanelle the other woman is frowning, her own eyes watery and her hands clenched. 

“I tried to call you, you know? 45 minutes in. You never called me back. Then you didn’t come and see me in the days after. I returned that plant you gave me, and then the feud began. You turned on me. Laughed at me.”

Villanelle opens her mouth to reply but Eve talks over her. 

“I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sure you like me, I’m sure you wouldn’t treat me the way you do if you didn’t, but I can’t go through that again. I spent an entire marriage being treated like a second choice, always the second option. And then I met you, and I thought we had a connection, and then-” Eve swallows down a fresh wave of tears. “And then I was just a second option to you too.”

Eve takes a step back, but Villanelle steps forward. 

“Are you going to let me talk?” Villanelle pleads. 

“I think it’s best that neither of us talk for a while.” Eve says tiredly. Her body is aching for bed, for home. “Don’t text me. Don’t call me. Don’t stop by. I don’t want to see you, it’ll only make it harder for both of us. I’m sorry.”

“Eve-

“Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Eve murmurs, and then she turns and steps out of the store. 

She doesn’t look over her shoulder through the glass window of the door. 

Some might think she’s overreacting, but the truth of the matter is it doesn’t fucking matter what they think. It’s valid to Eve. The tears she’d cried back then were valid, and the way her heart hurt back then was valid. Fuck anyone who thought Eve should just forgive and forget something that hit her so hard, hit her right in her deepest insecurities. 

It’s still daylight, and Eve remembers that it’s only early afternoon. 

She goes to bed anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sorry! *throws confetti*


	18. Lolike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter eighteen, in which we are all Elena

Villanelle doesn’t know what to do. 

She stands in the middle of her store in shock. Eve has just… Eve had…

She doesn’t know how to organise her complete mess of thoughts. 

Villanelle takes a deep breath. 

_ Start from the beginning. Focus.  _

Eve had rejected her. She’d been upset at Villanelle’s mention of ‘girlfriend’. 

Villanelle thought she’d gotten all the green flags she needed. She thought that Eve was in a place where she wanted to be with Villanelle. Her slow but steady plan had been going fine, Eve and herself growing closer every minute, but still, she’d rejected her. 

Because of what happened. 

Villanelle refuses to touch upon that right now, because… because  _ fuck _ , that is why. If she focuses on  _ that _ right now then she will just get upset, and being upset isn’t conducive to working out what the hell just happened. 

Eve had come from work, so Villanelle will start there. 

She swipes absentmindedly at any rogue tears that had escaped, pleased at least that her cheeks seem mostly dry. She goes about closing up for the day, sets up the automatic reply on her email address, then locks up. 

She sees only Hugo and Elena through the glass window so heads inside. 

“Hiya V, Eve isn’t here right now, she’s just-”

“I know.” Villanelle says firmly. “What happened earlier?”

“Earlier?” Hugo says from the desk.

“Yes, earlier.” Villanelle snaps, and she knows she must look wild right now. “Fifteen minutes ago, before she came to see me. What happened?”

“Oh no.” Elena says quietly, and before Villanelle can question her, Hugo cuts in. 

“Nothing happened.”

Villanelle scoffs. 

“Try again.”

“No seriously, nothing happened.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Nothing according to Eve, anyway.” 

“Explain.” Villanelle bites out. 

“I suggested there was something going on between you two.”

“Oh.” Villanelle is momentarily surprised. “What did she say?”

“She didn’t really say anything, just kept asking me what made me say it.” Hugo runs a hand through his hair, brow furrowed a little as he recalls. “I told her about my friend with benefits, Chloe, and she asked me what made her a friend with benefits.”

Hugo pauses and Villanelle feels his words sink into her skin like pin pricks. He looks at her with confused eyes. 

“She asked me if I’d ever make a picnic for Chloe, to which my answer was obviously no, that was too much effort and care for just a friend I was sleeping with.”

It clicks.

Villanelle feels anger rise in her like bile. 

“This is your fault.” She growls at Hugo. 

“What? What is?” He says, alarmed. “I didn’t do anything, I just answered her questions!”

“This is your fault.” She repeats, and before she registers her own actions she’s stalking across the room towards him. 

He backs quickly away, frantically looking to Elena for help as Villanelle closes in. 

“Look, I didn’t know okay? I mean, I knew she fancied you, but I didn’t know something was  _ actually _ going on!” 

Villanelle ignores him and doesn’t stop moving until she has him pressed against his piercing cabinets. 

“Fucking hell mate.” He says, high pitched and a little breathless. “Steady on. Like I said, I didn’t know. What happened?”

“She...” Villanelle trails off, anger suddenly turning back into a hopeless sort of sadness. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Oh…” Hugo says quietly. “Um… sorry?”

And just like that, the anger is back. 

She grunts as she pushes at Hugo’s shoulders hard, causing him to topple back into the glass windows of the cabinet and shaking everything inside violently. 

“What the  _ hell _ is going on through there?” 

It’s Eve, her voice muffled, clearly in her kitchen. Close enough to hear the crash but not enough to hear the voices. Villanelle needs to leave. 

“Hey, come with me.” It’s Elena, just behind her left shoulder. “Let’s go for a drink.”

With one last withering look at Hugo and a desperate look at Eve’s door, she lets Elena guide her by the arm out of the studio. 

——

“Okay. What did you do?”

They’re sat at a table in a nearby pub. Not Konstantin’s place; seeing him would be too much for Villanelle right now. No, instead they’re at The Rose, Elena sipping a gin and tonic and Villanelle trying not to down her vodka soda in one. Elena has finished texting her client, apologising and rescheduling their appointment with an offer of money off their tattoo, and now she focuses fully on Villanelle. 

“Nothing.” Villanelle says truthfully. “It just… I think things got too much for her so she left.”

“No, not today.” Elena says with raised eyebrows. “We’ll talk about that later. What happened five years ago?”

Villanelle scoffs and looks down at the drink in her hand, swirling it until the ice clinks against the glass. 

“She thinks I stood her up.”

“Okay. Did you?”

“No!” Villanelle’s eyes dart back up to Elena and she throws her hands up. “I didn’t! She stood  _ me _ up! Or at least I thought she did, until today.” 

“What?” 

“We were supposed to go out. I asked her to dinner, I wanted it to be really special because I actually  _ liked _ Eve so I planned it down to every last detail. I told her to meet me at the Italian place down the road at 7, but she never showed. I’d ordered an expensive bottle of champagne so just drank that alone until the place closed.” 

Villanelle sighs and takes a long sip of vodka soda. 

“I was upset so did not go see her, I waited for her to apologise. She never stopped by, so I decided to go to her after about three days. I opened the door and found the plant I gave her on my doorstep, half dead, so I did not go talk to her. I figured she had regretted agreeing to see me, and confirmed it with the return of that gift that she’d let die. So I dumped that week’s bouquet cut offs in her drain.”

She drinks more as Elena stares at her, mouth slightly open. Then she takes a deep breath in. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” Villanelle says, confused. “No? Why would I?”

“You’re telling me that Eve essentially started the feud with the return of a plant she let die?”

“Yes?” Villanelle says with a shrug. “I know I can be mean but I would not start something like that with her. I just wanted to talk to her.” 

“Holy shit…”

“Mmhmm.” Villanelle hums around her straw, noisily sucking the remaining drops of her drink. Elena rubs her hands over her face harshly, then lays them out flat on the table. 

“Okay. Okay, just so I understand… this entire mess, the last five fucking years of childish stunts, this afternoon’s emotional shit show, was all because you and Eve got your dinner date details mixed up? You… you what, went to different Italian restaurants? She went to Luigi’s and you went to The Spaghetti Bowl?”

“Uh, well yes actually that is where I went, so maybe… maybe Eve did go to Luigi’s… we weren’t clear about exactly which Italian restaurant down the road we were going to, now that I think about it…” Villanelle says pensively while looking into her empty glass with a frown. 

Elena punches her hard in the shoulder. 

“Ouch, what the fuck!”

“That’s for being a moron!”

“Okay!” Villanelle half shouts, rubbing at her shoulder and staring at Elena with wary eyes. “Elena, you are stronger than you look.”

“I control a vibrating metal gun for a living, of course I’m strong.” Elena says, frustrated. “God I cannot  _ believe _ you two idiots, Jesus Christ.” 

Villanelle doesn’t say anything, just quietly stands up and heads to the bar to order another round. When she returns, Elena has her fingers steepled in front of her chin. 

“So I’m guessing that my assumption that you and Eve have been shagging for the past couple of months was right then.” Elena doesn’t ask it, just states it, and Villanelle shrugs one shoulder. 

“Obviously.”

“Okay.” Elena says around a sigh, but when she looks at Villanelle again her eyes are a little brighter. “Good on the both of you, by the way. You’ve both bagged yourselves a hottie.”

Villanelle lets herself smile a little for what feels like the first time in forever, but it drops soon after. 

“Well, not anymore.” She says solemnly before sipping more vodka tonic. “What do I do? 

At that moment, Elena's phone chirps on the table in front of her and she picks it up, scanning the message on her screen quickly. She puts it down and claps her hands together decisively. 

“I don’t know yet, but I know what you’re not going to do.” Elena says while pointing her clasped hands at Eve. “You’re not going to go to the studio for the foreseeable. Hugo has just text me and apparently you are banned from the premises.”

“Right.” Villanelle mumbles, dropping her face and propping her forehead up in her hands. 

“Yeah. He says Eve came out just after we left wanting to know what the noise was about, and, well, Hugo told her.” Villanelle looks up and glares, opens her mouth to speak, but Elena hurries on. “He thought it best to just be honest, before you get even more pissy with him. But yeah, Eve told him to pass the message on that, uh… you are not allowed in.” 

Villanelle sighs. She plucks the straw from her drink and brings the glass to her lips instead. 

“And really, it actually wasn’t his fault.” Elena continues. “I know he’s a pain in the arse but he was just answering Eve’s questions. He didn’t know you two were going at it, just had his suspicions. And besides, even if he did know, what he said to Eve wasn’t all that damning. She just took it really… weirdly?”

“We’ve been sleeping together since some time in early November.” Villanelle says into her glass. “But started fooling around before then. I really, really like her, Elena.”

“We all see how you look at her, hun.” Elena says sympathetically. “Eve looks at you the same way. She’s just… having a betrayal flashback, momentarily. But she does like you, it’s obvious.”

“I am not so sure now.” Villanelle murmurs before clearing her throat. “Anyway, any suggestions on what I can do to at least get Eve to talk to me? I need to explain what happened back then.”

“Wait, that reminds me.” Elena says, sitting up straighter. “Why don’t  _ you _ hate Eve? You were under the impression that she stood  _ you _ up, after all. Why aren’t you all… angry and weird now things have developed from fighting to friends to fucking to  _ this _ , like she is?”

Villanelle considers this, and drains the rest of her drink. 

“I don’t know…” she sighs. “I just… I cannot be mad at Eve, I lo-“ she catches herself and her eyes widen in alarm as Elena smiles at her in surprise. “ _ Like _ her. That’s why.” 

“You ‘lolike’ her, huh?” Elena smirks. 

“Yes.” Villanelle says, sitting up straighter and lifting her chin. “I lolike her. It is a Russian word.”

“What is it Russian for?”

“It is Russian for shut up.”

“Alright, okay.” Elena says, lifting her hands but smiling smugly while she does it. “I’ll drop it. But if you ever want to talk about loliking Eve, I’ll be here.”

Villanelle looks away from Elena and shifts uncomfortably, spinning the glass on the tabletop for something to do. 

“Okay then,” Elena’s voice is brighter, as if she’s trying to move them on in topic, “we need to get you an opening, I guess. A way for you to explain your side. But you know Eve, she’s an angry, stubborn little elf with amazing legs.”

Villanelle nods along with this, lifting her glass in a cheers motion at the description of Eve. 

“So you’ll have to do something to  _ make _ her listen.”

“Well, I can’t contact her.” Villanelle huffs. “She has made it clear she does not want to talk to me, so maybe I should just not talk to her. Maybe I don’t even  _ want _ to talk to her now.”

Elena stares at her for a second, squinting her eyes a little, and then she taps her hands on the table sharply. 

“Okay then. That’s cool with me, as long as you don’t start pranking each other again. Another drink?”

“What? No, Elena,” Villanelle frowns and reaches across the table to grab her friend’s wrist, stopping her from leaving for the bar. “You are supposed to pressure me into finding a way to make amends by any means necessary.”

“Why?” Elena questions, gently tugging her arm out from Villanelle’s grip and standing. “Neither if you want to talk to each other! Neither of you can hurt each other any further if this way. Plus I don’t have to watch you make heart eyes at each other anymore. Win win!” 

Villanelle narrows her eyes at Elena who walks the two metres to the bar. 

“You are doing this on purpose,” Villanelle says to Elena’s retreating back. “But reverse psychology does not work on me.”

Elena turns to face her as she leans against the bar, arms folded and eyes wide in surprise. 

“It’s not reverse anything, I’m literally just respecting your decision.”

“Well, what if I change my decision, hmm? Then what? I do not need you to trick my mind, I can change it on my own if I want to.”

“Babe, I’m really not trying to-”

“I am sorry Elena but your games will not work on me.” Villanelle says firmly. “I have decided that I  _ will _ find a way to get Eve to talk to me.”

Elena opens her mouth to reply but Villanelle holds up a hand.

“It is done.” Villanelle says with finality. “Now, let’s get drunk, I am very sad.”

Elena simply stares at Villanelle, mouth open, until the bartender coughs to get her attention. She orders their drinks, and Villanelle watches her stare down at her fingers tapping on the bar. She thinks she sees Elena mouth ‘Jesus’ but she can’t be sure. 

And then Elena has their drinks and puts them on the table with a smile. 

“Okay then, let’s get drunk.”

——

There’s something warm on her face. 

It’s soft and comforting and so, so warm. 

Villanelle smiles sleepily into the softness. 

And then realises she has no idea what her face is pressed against. 

When she blinks open one eye she’s greeted with a pitch black darkness, and for a terrifying millisecond she thinks she’s gone blind. 

But then the pitch black start purring, and Villanelle understands.

“D’yavol?” She croaks, and the pitch black darkness mews softly in reply. “I told you, you are not allowed upstairs. You have a nice soft bed downstairs.”

The little black cat simply stretches, pushing her back further into Villanelle’s face and then rearranging herself so her belly is draped across Villanelle’s neck. 

“I see.” Villanelle murmurs. She yawns, careful not to disturb the cat. “Well, I am glad that you are comfortable at least,  _ Koshen’ka _ , because I am not.”

Now that she’s fully awake and chatting to her kind-of pet, Villanelle registers the pounding in her head that seems to be intensifying with each second that passes. 

She does a bit of a mental check of her body, testing her limbs gently while doing a run through of her memories of the day before. 

Eve. Eve rejecting her, Eve upset with her, Eve not letting her tell her side of the story, Eve telling her she doesn’t want to see her anymore. 

Villanelle sighs sadly and nuzzles into D’yavol’s fluffy tummy. 

Elena taking her to the pub. Elena talking to her, Elena helping her organise her thoughts. Elena letting her vent and wax poetic about Eve. Elena letting Villanelle get way too drunk for late afternoon. Elena getting way too drunk for late afternoon. 

Shit. 

Villanelle groans and rolls onto her back, much to D’yavol’s annoyance if the pitiful meow is anything to go by. She rubs her face with two hands and winces at the sting in her eyes. She pulls her hands away and finds them covered in eye makeup. 

Villanelle huffs at that, and carefully removes D’yavol from her neck. She puts the cat on the bed and carefully tucks the duvet around D’yavol’s fuzzy little body before heading downstairs to her bathroom to shower. 

If there’s one thing she will not allow, whatever the situation, it’s yesterday's makeup. Villanelle shudders. So unhygienic. 

——

Villanelle spends a long time in the shower, washing for a third of it and thinking with her forehead pressed against the tiles for two thirds. 

She thinks about Eve. Obviously. 

She thinks about Eve and how Eve thinks Villanelle ‘stood her up’. Thinks about how upset Eve was about it, still. Thinks about how she’s not surprised it affected Eve as much as it did; she knows Eve may seem tough and intimidating, but she’s sensitive when it comes down to it. And Villanelle loves that about her. 

_ Lolikes _ that about her. 

Despite herself, Villanelle laughs a little at that, at that stupid word, at the genuine feelings attached to that slip up of speech. She laughs, but then she thinks about Eve, and how she knows Eve’s version of events clearly hit a painful place full of history, how Eve is not likely to forgive Villanelle for long enough to allow Villanelle to explain why she doesn’t actually require Eve’s forgiveness in the first place, and, and-

What a mess. 

Villanelle laughs. 

And then she cries. 

——

Hungover and feeling sorry for herself, Villanelle wraps up warm and heads into her garden. Only a few weeks ago, she and Eve had sat out here eating bread and crisps and drinking orange juice. They’d kissed on the blanket until Eve started shivering, not quite as used to cold temperatures as Russian-born Villanelle. 

Villanelle walks past the spot and down to her shed, opening it up and pulling some gardening supplies out. 

Within five minutes Villanelle is knelt by her winter-flowering heather bushes, trimming dead buds off and clearing away other old leaves and twigs. 

She works methodically, breathing in the crisp air as she goes. She tries to think of nothing but the task at hand, mentally lists everything she knows about heather, recounts snippets from botany books about evergreen shrubbery. 

Her phone beeps with a message in her pocket and it startles Villanelle from her thoughts. 

She brushes dirt from her gloves and slips one off to check her phone. 

It’s 10am, Villanelle has already been out here for 45 minutes without even noticing. She opens her texts. 

_ Elena: why the fucK _

Villanelle: I know

_ Elena: I’m glad you’re not sad often. I definitely can’t do that again any time soon _

_ Elena: you alright? _

Villanelle: I’m fine. Gardening!

_ Elena: fuck off are you gardening, it’s 10am _

Villanelle snaps a pic of herself by the heathers, rolling her eyes back in her head in a show of feeling like death, then sends it. 

_ Elena: girl I don’t know how you do it _

_ Elena: I feel and look like a scrotum rn _

Villanelle: That is gross

_ Elena: I am gross  _

_ Elena: but like, are you okay? _

Sighing, Villanelle takes off her other glove and settles more comfortably against the grassy ground. As comfortably as you can settle on hard January ground, anyway. 

Villanelle: No but yes? I don’t know

Villanelle: I just want to tell her about what happened 

Villanelle: I want to explain it all, and tell Eve again that I want to be with her. Maybe she won’t react as badly if she knows the whole story

_ Elena: fuck that’s cute  _

_ Elena: how though? She won’t see you _

Villanelle: Do you think you could talk to her for me?

_ Elena: :S _

Villanelle: Please? Just say something mysterious, tell her she’ll want to hear what I have to say. Make it seem like I need to tell her something that’ll change everything. 

_ Elena: it WILL change everything  _

_ Elena: god this is utter nonsense  _

_ Elena: I still don’t fully understand what is happening _

Villanelle: Please talk to her?

_ Elena: okay fine _

_ Elena: I can’t promise it’ll work though, you know that right? _

Villanelle: I know

Villanelle: Give her a few days, maybe she’ll be easier to persuade once everything is a little less raw

_ Elena: I will  _

_ Elena: I’m gonna go throw up now _

_ Elena: xoxo _

Villanelle: You’re so English 

Villanelle: One day I will teach you to drink like a Russian! x

Villanelle smiles at her phone, staring until the screen goes black and her smiles drops. She sighs. 

Something makes her look up, a feeling or a twitch in the air, and she finds herself looking straight at Eve’s living room window. 

And Eve is standing there, looking down at her. 

Villanelle’s breath hitches. 

But before she can even start to lift her hand in a wave, Eve quickly turns and disappears. 

Villanelle knows that this half-second glimpse is all she’ll see of Eve for a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first half of a very long chapter, but so much happened in it that I was like no this is A LOT. So I halved it. Soz, but it means next chapter is more Villanelle POV!


	19. Mario Kart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that this is a sort of continuation of the last chapter and still Villanelle POV, so I advise maybe going back and reading the last few paragraphs to refresh your memory!

Her iPad sits in front of her on her kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea to the left and a croissant to the right. 

Villanelle needs to work out how to apologise for-

Well. 

She doesn’t really have anything to apologise for, not what Eve is expecting it for anyway. 

Okay, so, not an apology. 

She needs to work out how to show Eve that she wants this, wants them, wholeheartedly. That this is nothing like last time, despite the accidental mix up. That this is real and it feels big and special. 

Villanelle needs to work out how to show Eve that she lolikes her. 

Maybe that should be Villanelle’s first tattoo. ‘Lolike’, right over her heart. 

She turns on her iPad and starts googling. 

——

An hour later and Villanelle has learnt two things. 

One, a croissant is not good hangover food.

And two, finding the perfect ‘I want to be with you and I promise it will be worth it’ gift is really difficult.

She was barely five minutes in when she realised she had no idea what to search for, so she started with things Eve might find romantic, scrolling through countless sites promising the perfect gifts for that special someone. 

None of it is right. 

She doesn’t want to give Eve chocolates or flowers or tickets to Paris, no teddy bears, no personalised jewellery, no custom prints of the coordinates of the path outside their two shops where they first met. 

It’s all too cute or too impersonal or too cliche or too much. None of it says ‘Eve’, and Villanelle needs this to be a gift that proves, once and for all, that Villanelle wants her, wants all of her, wants every little thing that makes Eve ‘Eve’.

There’s a blurred memory trying to push its way to the front of her mind, something relevant, and Villanelle focuses on it and tries to give it light. 

Something that means a lot to Eve. Something… special, something she doesn’t have anymore…?

It hits her. 

The fire, her desk and everything inside it. 

The destroyed sheet of flash tattoos that sent Eve upstairs for an hour. 

Villanelle grabs her phone and types furiously. 

Villanelle: Elena, who is that tattoo artist that does the super well known colourful tattoos? They are bold and sort of old fashioned, like sailor tattoos? 

Villanelle taps her fingers impatiently as she pleads with anyone listening for Elena to reply quickly. She almost sighs in relief when the three bouncing dots appear. 

_ Elena: Norman Collins is probably who you’re thinking of _

_ Elena: more commonly known as Sailor Jerry _

_ Elena: did you know he’s like one of Eve’s idols? _

She just about stops herself from victoriously punching the air.

Villanelle: You are my hero, thank you so much xoxo

_ Elena: ...what is happening  _

Villanelle ignores Elena and drops her phone to the table, fingers already flying over the keys.

She soon finds out that original Sailor Jerry flash sheets are not cheap. Villanelle doesn’t mind spending money, but she does mind spending over £2.5k for a sheet of paper she can’t even confirm is real. 

She clicks out of eBay and continues scrolling, editing the google search term every so often, until she comes across something that makes her pause. 

There’s a collector of fine art and illustrative print living right here in London that just so happens to have a Sailor Jerry piece in his collection. 

She finds the about me page and is faced with a surprisingly young face, with boring glasses and boring hair and a mean sort of look in his cold eyes. 

She reads the short bio. 

_ Aaron Peel, collector of fine art and illustrative print, was born and raised in London, England. Excelling in all areas of early life, Peel is now recognised as one of the leading young entrepreneurs of his generation within the world of online marketing. In his spare time, Peel scours the globe in search of rare art which he collects, sometimes graciously lending his finds to museums across the world _ . 

Villanelle already hates him. 

She opens up Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, and searches for Aaron Peel across all sites. 

Nothing. 

She huffs, but keeps looking. 

While scrolling through various twitter mentions, something catches Villanelle’s eye. 

Amber ❤️ @A.Z. **Peel** 25m

My brother  **Aaron** and I used to love our summer hols up in Wells-Next-The-Sea, such a lovely place for #sailing! Here’s a piccy of the two of us there as kids. Still bloody love a Mr Whippy!

Attached is an old photo of two blonde children sitting on a brick wall with sailing boats moored behind them, sea lavender fields visible in the background. The boy, clearly older, looks sullen and sunburnt, a bored expression on his face while looking straight at the camera. The girl, however, is grinning widely, curly blonde hair blowing in all directions and a half eaten ice cream clutched in her hands, most of it around her mouth. 

Villanelle looks closer at the photo, confirming that that definitely is a young Aaron Peel in the picture, but also feeling a pang of recognition at the girl’s face. She click through to her profile. 

Upon seeing the icon, the memory hits her. She’d just dumped old plants and compost on the path outside Eve’s studio and the woman had confronted her about it, while a bewildered looking blonde stood behind her making unnecessary comments. 

Amber was one of Eve’s clients. 

Villanelle can’t believe her luck. 

She has an in. 

She remembers the blonde as having an ‘easy to please’ sort of vibe about her, and combining that with the girl’s constant stream of tweets detailing every minute of every day, Villanelle figures she may be fairly easy to influence. 

She sends a DM to Amber from her florist business Twitter. 

_ Garden of Eden Floristry: _

_ Hi Amber, _

_ This is Villanelle from Garden of Eden.  _

_ Congratulations! You’ve won a free large bouquet of your choosing! Just send me a message back to confirm, and we’ll sort out a time for delivery.  _

_ Thanks!  _

_ V x _

It is a long shot, but who knows. Amber seems to have more money than sense, so maybe she’s used to good things simply falling into her lap.

——

Amber doesn’t reply until that evening. Villanelle had spent the day either moping or moving, going between curling up on the sofa and feeling sorry for her hungover head and hurting heart, and hoovering every room and dusting every corner. 

She’d never known what pining was until now. 

It was like her heart was longing for Eve. It felt like it was trying to crawl out of her chest, like it had decided it belonged to Eve now and so needed to be with her. It was uncomfortable and alarming and wonderful, all at the same time. Nauseating and thrilling. 

When her phone pings at around 7, Villanelle jumps to check the notification immediately, desperately hoping it’s Eve asking if she wants to watch a movie, that’s she’s over it, that everything is fine. 

It’s not Eve. 

But it  _ is _ Amber. 

_ Amber ❤️: _

_ Oh my god no way! _

_ Amber ❤️:  _

_ That’s so exciting!  _

_ Amber ❤️:  _

_ I’m so chuffed, thank you so much! _

_ Amber ❤️: _

_ I don’t even remember entering a competition! _

_ Amber ❤️: _

_ I know your shop, it’s not far from me, I’ll pop in tomoz? _

_Villanelle:_

_Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow._

_Amber ❤️:_

_See ya!_

Villanelle drops her phone next to her on the couch, and allows herself to feel hopeful for the first time in two days. 

——

“Hi!”

Villanelle looks up from the roses she’s trimming to see Amber Peel, dressed in the latest fashions, curly blonde hair in a high ponytail, smelling faintly of expensive cigarettes. If it wasn’t for the overbearing ‘spoilt rich girl’ personality, Villanelle thinks that Amber could probably be someone she might get along with. 

“Hello, Amber is it?” Villanelle asks, knowing full well that it is. 

“That’s me! So, which flowers did I win?” Amber looks around excitedly. “Gosh, it’s cute in here isn’t it? Totally insta-worthy.”

Villanelle watches as Amber slips her phone from her coat pocket, already stepping back to get the perfect shot of the plants lined up on shelves beneath the neon ‘stop and smell the roses’ sign fixed to the exposed brick wall. She needs to hurry this along. 

“That is up to you.” Villanelle says pleasantly. “I have roses, tulips, peonies-”

“Ooh, peonies!” Amber says excitedly, turning back to Villanelle but still tapping away on her phone. “A bouquet of pink peonies please, they’ll look fab in my kitchen.”

“Sure.” Villanelle says, stepping outside to grab a large bouquet from the tubs and then coming back inside to wrap them. “Is your kitchen pink?”

“Oh, no.” Amber says, tapping her phone with finality and then looking up. Villanelle sees an Instagram notification pop up on her iPad, and is fairly surprised at Amber’s speed. “My kitchen is all white tile, but the pink will give it the most gorg pop of colour!”

Villanelle’s finishes wrapping the bouquet, then pauses as she hands it to Amber. 

“You seem like fun.” Villanelle says with a forced smile. “We should hang out! Want to go for a coffee or something?”

“Oh my god,  _ yes _ .” Amber drawls, taking the flowers from Villanelle’s hands. “There’s a little caf near mine I’ve been dying to try, they have the sweetest little cupcakes. Besides, your whole designer vibe will look right at home there, don’t think I haven’t noticed your little Fendi belt.”

Okay, maybe Villanelle should have given the girl more credit. Amber clearly knew her stuff, and Villanelle finds herself somewhat impressed. 

“Wow, you know your designers.”

“Please,” Amber scoffs. “It’s practically my super power. Shall we?” 

Amber is holding the door open now, so Villanelle quickly scribbles a ‘back after lunch’ sign and puts it in the window. It takes a couple of minutes to drag all of the outside tubs in, but Amber surprises her by helping, and soon they’re walking side by side, Amber talking Villanelle’s ear off, but Villanelle allows it. Amber isn’t that bad after all. 

——

After a ridiculously indulgent afternoon tea spread, which featured a lot of photo opportunities apparently, if Amber’s insistence in snapping photos of Villanelle in the lavish cafe was anything to go by, Villanelle broaches the question. 

“I’d love to see your place.” She says casually, smiling as she sips her peach bellini. “You have said so much about it.”

“Let’s pay and then head there.” Amber says brightly. “I’d love your opinion on my new sofa, I’m still not totes sure about it.”

Well, that was easy. 

Villanelle offers to split the bill but Amber waves her off saying ‘what are new friends for?”, leaving Villanelle a moment to think as Amber chats to the waiter. 

She wants to scope out the Peel residence. She’s learnt, in between eating cake and tiny sandwiches, that Amber lives with her brother in a huge house not far from the cafe. Villanelle wants to take a look around and maybe find out where Aaron keeps his collectibles, but not because she’s planning on stealing anything. Obviously not. 

They walk down a few beautiful London streets before they stop outside of a huge red brick house at least four stories tall, with dark windows and spotless frames.

“Wow.” Villanelle mumbles. 

“I know right?” Amber replies, “So cute, isn’t it.”

Cute is not exactly the word Villanelle would use to describe it, but she keeps her mouth shut. 

Once inside, Amber heads straight for the kitchen in the vast open plan room they’ve stepped into, rummaging in a cupboard until she brings out a beautiful glass vase. 

“Nell, would you mind making the flowers look all pretty in that vase?” Amber asks, already fiddling with a coffee machine. “You’ll obviously do it so much better than I could. I’ll make us some coffee.”

Villanelle has never been called Nell before but she finds she doesn’t hate it. She gets to work arranging the flowers, losing herself just a little in the soft touch of stems and petals, before she’s beckoned into the seating area by Amber who’s holding two glasses full of steaming coffee. 

“So,” says Amber once they’ve sat down on the comfortable velvet sofas. “Do you want to play Mario Kart?”

“Um… what?” 

“Mario Kart.” Amber looks at like she’s mad. “You do know what that is, right?”

“Yes,” Villanelle says, “I just did not expect you to know.”

“Oh please.” Amber says with an eye roll and a smile, reaching for a remote and two controllers from under the coffee table. “You should know too that just because I’m rich it doesn’t mean I don’t like ‘normal’ stuff. Mario Kart is the tits.”

—— 

Seven rounds of race tournaments in, Villanelle excuses herself to use the toilet and Amber declares she is going to make hot chocolates. 

As big as the house is, it doesn’t seem to have that many rooms. The rooms are, of course, massive, and she pokes her head inside each one as she passes to find the ‘toilet’. 

Amber’s bedroom is easy enough to name, with its leopard print bedspread and piles of clothes everywhere. There’s a gorgeous lamp on the side table and a beautiful antique dresser in the corner that Villanelle will have to ask her about, covered in jewellery and make up. 

She keeps going, heading up another flight of stairs and down the hallway until she reaches a door at the very end. She tries it and is surprised when it opens, and she peeks through the crack she’s made to see what’s inside. 

Bingo. 

The room has art all over the two walls she can see, and any gap in the wall is filled with a shelf supporting smaller framed pieces. The floors under the walls are lined with neat and expensive looking cabinets, and when she looks in further she sees the far wall half covered by a large bookshelf, each shelf packed with smaller boxes. Every single thing in the room is labelled, and it smells like a mix of old paper and cleaning solution. 

Villanelle looks back at the cabinets and notes the drawers. Judging by the size, she imagines that’s where Aaron keeps his prints. 

That’s where the tattoo sheet will probably be, if she’s lucky. 

And fuck it, maybe she _should_ just steal it. It’s not like he’ll miss it. 

She’s about to take a step inside the room when she hears Amber’s voice from two floors below, barely there but just enough that Villanelle can hear it. 

She hears a male’s voice next.

Villanelle steps away from the door and closes it gently, walking softly but quickly back down the hall and the stairs, reaching the bathroom and slipping inside just as she hears heavier footsteps ascending the stairs and then ascending the next set. 

Villanelle flushes the toilet for good measure and then goes downstairs as quickly as she can. 

“Amber,” she says, as she walks into the living area to see the blonde busy making hot chocolates. “I’m so sorry, but I need to go. I do not feel so good.”

“Oh shit.” Amber says, sounding genuinely disappointed. “God, I hope it wasn’t the afternoon tea…”

“Thank you for today.” Villanelle says with a genuine smile. “I had fun.”

“Me too! You’ll have to come over again for sups at some point.”

“Yes.” Villanelle has no idea what that word means. “Definitely.”

Amber sees her out with a wave and Villanelle sets off, the cold evening air biting at her cheeks. It’s dark out, despite it only being 7, but the stars are shining bright, brighter than they usually do in London. 

Villanelle stares up at them as she walks, tugging her thick coat tighter around herself as she goes. 

She wonders if Eve is looking at the stars too. 

And then she scoffs, because this is not a movie; there is no place for romantic cliche thoughts in this situation. 

She focuses instead on the tattoo sheet, and what it might do for her and Eve if she manages to actually get her hands on it. How will she get it to Eve? And what will Eve do when she sees it? Will she leap into Villanelle’s arms? Will she glare at her and call it a fake?

Will Eve even give her the time of day for Villanelle to actually hand the sheet over?

She shakes her head. Whatever happens, she will get the sheet to Eve. 

If she even manages to get it herself in the first place. 

Was Villanelle actually prepared to steal an expensive collectible from a total stranger, just in the hopes that it’ll make the woman she lolikes give her a chance to explain herself? 

Yes. Yes she was. 

Is still prepared to, actually. 

Stealing is not off her list of options. She’s done it before, granted that was just money from other kids and school supplies, but whatever. Villanelle still has that darkness within her, she knows that from how quickly she’s prone to aggression when she’s angry, so yeah, she has no problem with stealing. 

For Eve. 

Villanelle sighs and watches her breath turn to small puffs in the air, twisting and disappearing into the night. She doesn’t want to go home yet. 

Maybe she will stop at Konstantin’s bar and see him, maybe ask for some advice from someone who doesn’t know Eve like Elena does. 

She could use a drink anyway. 

——

“What is wrong with you.”

Villanelle sighs into her whisky. 

“Whiskey makes me sad.”

“You were sad before those two drinks.” Konstantin says gruffly, one eyebrow raised. “Something has made you sad, and you have been so  _ happy _ recently. What has happened?”

Villanelle takes a long sip of her whiskey, her head propped up on one hand, elbow leaning on the bar as Konstantin makes cocktails for other customers, despite the cast on his leg. She sits on the comfortable plush stool and looks down into the swirling amber liquid. 

“Eve left me.”

Konstantin hums thoughtfully and finishes the drink he’s making, sliding it over to a man in a suit with a smile before turning back to Villanelle.

“I did not know Eve was with you. Where did she go?”

“Now is not the time for jokes, Konstantin.” Villanelle says miserably, finishing her whiskey then sliding the tumbler towards him. “Another, please.”

Konstantin fills her glass and Villanelle ignores the feeling of his gaze burning the top of her head.

“Okay. You were with Eve? Just so I can understand.”

“Yes.” Villanelle mumbles, taking a large gulp of her fresh drink. “Also no.”

“Oh boy.” Konstantin mutters. “Hold on. Sarah? Can you cover for a bit? I need to rest my leg.”

A waitress stops as walks past the bar and nods with a smile, putting down her tray and then heading behind the bar to serve as Konstantin hobbles around to sit beside Villanelle. 

“And two more whiskeys, please.”

Sarah makes their drinks as Villanelle downs the remainder of her current, wincing at the burn. 

“You know I cannot carry you home this time, if you keep going like that.” Konstantin says, slightly amused. Villanelle just shrugs. “Okay. Tell me what is happening.”

She tells him everything. 

She tells him about how Villanelle realised she was developing feelings for Eve again. She tells him that they kissed in the hammock, how Eve suggested they be friends with benefits, how Villanelle wanted more than that but was happy to take whatever Eve was willing to give. She tells him that when they first had sex, Villanelle felt different, felt like something in her changed, how she had never felt like it before. How it felt right. She tells him how much closer they got, how they’d go out together, spend mornings and nights together, tells him how Villanelle started to look out for signs that Eve would be okay with something  _ more _ . 

She tells him about how wonderful Eve had been to her when Konstantin had his accident, how from that point on there was no ‘friends with benefits’ about it, how they were a couple, undoubtedly, greeting each other with kisses and laughing at dumb jokes and holding each other when one of them had a bad day. 

She tells him about the picnic, how Eve had remembered it was something Villanelle had wanted to do, so had set it up the day after the accident just to make Villanelle feel better. She tells him about how Eve had invited her over for Christmas dinner to meet her mother. She tells him about the gift, the beautiful drawing. 

She tells him about yesterday. Tells him what Eve said to her, tells him that Villanelle couldn’t get a word in. She talks  _ over _ him when he starts getting annoyed, saying how Eve had got it all wrong about five years ago, and she tells him that yes, he is right, but Eve has a right to react in whichever way she wants to something that hurt her.

She tells him about how much her chest aches. 

He listens and he stares, and he gives her sympathetic shoulder squeezes when necessary, and when she’s finished talking, her throat a little sore and her mind blurry from her fifth whiskey, he sighs. 

“Villanelle,” he says carefully, holding her gaze. “You realise you are in love with her, yes?”

Villanelle looks away, breathing quickening. 

“Please do not say that.” She murmurs. A gentle hand tilts her chin so that she’s facing him again. 

“I know you do not like it. I know that you have only felt it once, with Anna,-”

“Don’t.”

“- but Villanelle, you are in love with this woman. That is why this is so hard. You love her.”

She wills the tears not to fall, but she’s a little drunk and she’s tired and she’s also pretty hungry, so they fall anyway. 

“I lolike her.” She whispers. 

“Okay, I do not know what that is.” Konstantin says quietly, his hand resting warmly on her back. “But yes, fine, you lolike her.”

She nods sadly and leans heavily into his side, nuzzling the side of her head into his dark jumper. He slides an arm around her and gives her a firm squeeze. 

“Villanelle?”

“Hmm?” She hums, sadly. 

“You realise that Eve is in love with you too, don’t you?”

Villanelle doesn’t say anything, just shuts her eyes tight against a fresh wave of tears that threaten to fall. 

“You might not believe that right now,” Konstantin continues, “but trust me,  _ moya dorogaya _ , she would not be acting like this if she did not love you too.”

And Villanelle is drunk, and she is tired, and she really is very hungry. 

So she lets herself cling to the hope that maybe, maybe, Konstantin is right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you even know how much I want to be hugged by Konstantin


	20. Chǎteauneuf du Pape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh folks, only five chapters left after this one! What!

_It was yesterday that Villanelle had swanned into the studio after hours, flirted her way through conversation, and then made Eve think she was going to kiss her._

_It’s been 24 hours, and Eve has thought of nothing else._

_It’s been very distracting._

_She had three clients today, one four hour session and two one hour sessions, and all three probably thought Eve was either tired, sick or grumpy, based on how little she spoke._

_She assured them she was fine, just concentrating, and tried to throw in some extra smiles and bit of her usual banter, but it felt forced._

_Villanelle was all her mind had space for, besides the motions of tattooing._

_Villanelle’s eyes, her smile, her hair, her attitude, her clothes, her voice, her laugh, her… hands._

_Three weeks of build up, of sparks flying, of soft touches and heated gazes, and yesterday it really seemed like finally,_ finally _, something was going to happen to break that tension._

_And it almost did._

_Eve feels wired. She feels wound too tightly, a spring under pressure, and touching herself last night had done literally nothing to let steam out of the pot._

_The studio is closed for the day, her artists have gone home, and she’s practically vibrating with anticipation as she steps through to her kitchen and upstairs to check her appearance._

_Standing in front of her full length mirror she takes in her outfit; black skinny jeans, an oversized chunky knit turtleneck jumper in dark green, adidas trainers in the same green. She lets her hair down from the messy ponytail and runs her fingers through it a few times until the curls bounce, then adds a little eyeliner above her eyes._

_She looks good, she thinks. She hopes Villanelle will think so too._

_And judging by how Villanelle already acts around her, she’s sure she will._

_She takes the stairs back down two at a time and half jogs through the kitchen and studio, hopping out the front door and locking it soundly behind her before taking a deep breath and heading to the brand new Garden of Eden flower shop._

_It’s closed._

_Eve curses inwardly. Of course it’s closed, it’s gone 7pm. Eve feels like an idiot, standing there and staring at a closed door, and she turns to head back to her studio feeling embarrassed and disappointed._

_“Eve!”_

_Eve spins on the spot and sees Villanelle walking towards her down the path, shopping bags in her hands._

_“Villanelle, hey.” Eve says, hoping she sounds casual and not like her heart is trying to thump out of her chest._

_“Were you looking for me?” Villanelle asks as she gets to her door, shifting all of her bags into one hand as she roots around in her shoulder bag for her keys._

_“Oh, yeah, just wanted to stop by and say hi.” Eve says as Villanelle unlocks the door and steps inside, beckoning Eve to follow._

_“Is that all?” Villanelle asks with a hint of a smirk on her lips, but before Eve can stutter out an answer Villanelle turns to the bags she’s put down on the counter. “Would you like to stay for a drink? I’ve been craving good white wine today.”_

_“God, yes.” Eve practically moans before she can stop herself, but Villanelle just chuckles._

_“Good.” Villanelle says with a smile. “Come on through.”_

_She leads Eve into her kitchen, which has already been totally transformed by Villanelle in the three weeks she’s lived there. There are colourful plant prints on the walls, the centre of the room features a rustic and expensive looking dining table with matching chairs, and there are shiny appliances on the countertops._

_But most eye catching all of is the amount of plants around the room. Eve counts three large and lush looking houseplants in various corners, and several trailing plants hanging from hooks from the ceiling above the table and sink and french doors. There are a cluster of plants that look like fresh herbs lining her window sills, and a huge vase of flowers right in the middle of the large wooden table._

_“Wow.” Eve says, walking slowly towards the vase of flowers and gently touching the soft petals of a pink carnation. “You really do love plants, huh.”_

_“It would be a little weird if I didn’t’,” Villanelle says with her head in the fridge, putting things away. “What with my job and all. Don’t you have art and illustrations all over your house?”_

_“Good point.” Eve laughs, walking to join Villanelle by the counter. “So, what wine did you get?”_

_“A bottle of Chǎteauneuf du Pape, only £30.”_

_“For one bottle of white wine?!”_

_Villanelle turns her head to look at Eve while she starts twisting the corkscrew into the cork, flashing her an amused look._

 _“I said I was craving good white wine.” Villanelle says with a wink. “Small or large glass?”_

_“Large, it's Friday.”_

_“My kind of thinking.” Villanelle says with a smile while popping the cork._

_She pours two large glasses and hands one to Eve, then holds hers out in front of her._

_“To new friends and good wine.”_

_Eve smiles and clinks her glass against Villanelle’s, keeping their eyes locked._

_“Cheers.” She says, then takes a sip. “Oh fuck this is good.”_

_Villanelle laughs and nods, taking a sip herself and humming happily._

_“So,” Villanelle says as she drags a chair out and sits, “to what do I owe the pleasure? We only saw each other last night.”_

_Eve sits too, pulling the chair next to Villanelle out and relaxing back against it._

_“I realised I don’t know all that much about you.” Eve says. “Besides the love of plants and that you’re from Russia. Tell me about yourself?”_

_Villanelle takes another sip of her wine and narrows her eyes in thought. Eve wonders what she’s thinking about, wonders if there was something in her question that would cause Villanelle to get offended or annoyed, but she comes up blank. Eventually, Villanelle looks away._

_“There is not too much to know.”_

_“Oh please.” Eve laughs. “You’re already one of the most interesting people I know, and I barely even know you.”_

_Eve catches herself after she says it and for half a millisecond wants to take the compliment back, but then Villanelle is smiling softly and looking at Eve curiously._

_“You think I’m interesting?”_

_“Well, yeah.” Eve says honestly. “I don’t know what it is, exactly. There’s just… something about you. I can tell there’s a lot to you.”_

_Eve swears she sees Villanelle’s cheeks colour a little, but her expression is one of smooth bravado regardless._

_“Oh you can tell, can you?” Villanelle teases, and Eve shakes her head with a laugh. “Okay. I will tell you some things.”_

_Eve sits a little straighter like she’s about to be told a story, and Villanelle chuckles._

_“Okay. My name is Villanelle Astankova. That isn’t actually my real first name, but even as a child I insisted people call me Villanelle.”_

_“What’s your real name?”_

_Villanelle smiles and looks down at her wine glass._

_“Only my family know that. Maybe I will tell you, one day.”_

_God, this woman is so mysterious. Eve finds herself shuffling closer in her chair._

_“Go on.” Eve says eagerly._

_“I do not know.” Villanelle says, looking back up at Eve with a mischievous smile. “What do I get out of this?”_

_“Out of telling me about yourself?” Eve says confused, and Villanelle nods like it’s obvious. “Okay, um… okay, for everything you tell me about you, I’ll tell you something about me.”_

_“Yes, okay.” Villanelle says through a growing smile. “I like that. So, it is your turn.”_

_“Okay, my full name is Eve June Polastri and I’m 35. I’ve been a qualified tattoo artist for 12 years.”_

_“I am an only child.”_

_“Me too.”_

_Villanelle is still smiling, and she’s looking at Eve like she’s seeing something new, something she hasn’t seen before. It makes Eve’s chest feel slightly tight. It’s nice._

_“I used to work for a landscaping company, until I realised the only person I wanted to take orders from was myself.”_

_Eve laughs at that, finishing her wine._

_“That sounds about right.” Eve nods with a grin. “You do seem very independent.”_

_“Thank you.” Villanelle says with a shoulder shimmy that makes Eve laugh again. “Your turn.”_

_“I love dogs.” Eve stands up as she talks, walking over to the fridge and retrieving the bottle of wine. She tops up both of their glasses as she continues. “They’re the best thing in the universe, we do not deserve them.”_

_“Cats are better.”_

_“Of course you’re a cat person.” Eve groans good-naturedly, sitting down again. “I just love the way you can feel how much dogs adore us.”_

_“And I like how you can feel how indifferent cats are. They really do not care.”_

_Eve chuckles into her wine glass._

_“My favourite food is ramen with pork. My mom’s is the best, but I will settle for Wagamama’s.”_

_“I love ramen.” She agrees, sipping her fresh wine. “But my favourite food is fried chicken.”_

_“Fried chicken? Really?”_

_“What is so strange about that?” Villanelle laughs._

_“It just… doesn’t seem very you, I guess. I was expecting caviar or quail’s eggs.”_

_“Eve,” Villanelle murmurs silkily, “you need to reshape this idea you have of who I am.”_

_“Villanelle,” Eve tries to mirror the seductive tone, “you literally just spent £30 on white wine.”_

_Villanelle laughs delightedly and Eve grins._

_“I cannot help that I have good taste!” Villanelle says through her laughter._

_“And yet, fried chicken is your favourite food.”_

_“Have you ever eaten fried chicken, Eve? It should be everyone’s favourite food.”_

_Eve breaks down into laughter then too, and the kitchen is full of the sound of two friends having fun for a minute, until it tapers off into giggles. Eve stares at Villanelle and bites her lip to contain her grin, knowing what she’s about to say will have Villanelle in uproar._

_“I don’t have a single plant in my house.”_

_Villanelle does not disappoint._

_“What?!” Villanelle’s cry echoes off the walls of the kitchen. “Do you live in a prison cell?”_

_Eve laughs, and she feels her abs ache a little at how much she’s already laughed during their short conversation._

_“No, my house is perfectly nice, thank you very much.” Eve says with a toss of her hair. “I’m just… not good at keeping them alive, so I don’t bother.”_

_“This is an outrage.” Villanelle says with a shake of her head. She drains her glass and winces a little at the burn before standing up. “You need at least one plant, Eve, and if you won’t look after it then I will just have to come over and do it.”_

_Eve feels a thrill inside her chest at the thought of Villanelle coming over to hers regularly and what that might mean, but she doesn’t mention it. She drains her glass too and stands to follow Villanelle, who is already striding back through onto the shop floor._

_When Eve gets there Villanelle is already surveying a wall of shelved plants, carefully assessing each one. Eve thinks they all look the same, so she can’t tear her eyes away from Villanelle who genuinely seems to see something different in each leafy green thing._

_She must see something she likes because she nods suddenly, then plucks a small plant in a painted black and white pot from the top shelf before bringing it over to the counter Eve is leaning against._

_“Cute pot.” Eve says with a nod to the plant._

_“Yes, I thought you would like it.” Villanelle says. “This is an aluminium plant, so called because of the lovely silver stripes across the leaves.”_

_Eve smiles down at the plant and touches one of its leaves._

_“And it is hard to kill.”_

_She glares up at Villanelle but smiles nonetheless. They’re standing side by side against the counter, Eve with her left hip pressed against it and Villanelle with her right, facing each other in the low glowing light of Villanelle’s various neon signs around the room._

_“It’s your turn.” Eve tells Villanelle, her voice is a little quieter. The air feels different in this room. Maybe it’s the plants. Maybe it’s a shift in mood._

_Villanelle looks away from Eve towards her plants as she thinks. A few moments later, she looks back and locks eyes with Eve._

_“I have not kissed someone in my new place yet.”_

_And despite the fluttering in her heart at the statement, Eve can’t help but joke._

_“Well you’ve only been here three weeks, I would be rather impressed if you had.”_

_Villanelle scoffs, then smirks, then slides closer to Eve, her eyes a sparkling dark hazel in the dim light._

_“I disagree, I think it is a shame.”_

_Eve moves closer too, and now there’s not much space between them, Eve can feel the warmth coming off Villanelle, can smell the sweet floral scent of her perfume mingling with the fresh plant smell in the air._

_“Three weeks does sound like a long time, now that you mention it.” Eve murmurs._

_The distance has been closed now. They’re standing almost chest to chest, almost touching, and she can feel every soft exhale of Villanelle’s breath shift the air in her own space. Villanelle reaches a hand out, moves a curl behind Eve’s ear, lets her hand linger against Eve’s jaw._

_“Want to help me change that?”_

_And god, Eve feels herself grow wet at that line alone._

_“Absolutely.” Eve mumbles, and then there are lips against hers._

_It’s like…_

_It’s not comparable._

_Villanelle is soft and pliable and sweet, she tastes of wine and laughter, and she moves with a confidence that turns Eve on more than a kiss ever has before._

_It’s all firm presses of gentle lips until it’s not, until Eve feels the warm wetness of a tongue flick out. She opens her mouth to it, welcomes Villanelle’s tongue to slide against her own, tilting her head to make it more comfortable, and Villanelle licks deeper, drawing a soft moan from the back of Eve’s throat._

_It sets something off between them, and the hand that had been cupping Eve’s jaw shifts into her hair, nails scraping deliciously against her scalp. Eve bites Villanelle’s lip softly, then harder when Villanelle whimpers, and Eve’s hands find her hips and she tugs Villanelle towards her._

_The kiss becomes more frantic, it’s heavy and wet and everything Eve wanted it to be whenever she’d thought about it these past weeks. It’s everything and more._

_She guides Villanelle by her hips so that her back is against the counter, Eve pushing her against it, one hand sliding up to cup Villanelle’s cheek and angle her head further to the side to let Eve control the kiss. Villanelle moans, easily keeping up with the change, the kiss more languid now, bordering on dirty, a perfect kind of deep and slow._

_When hips buck gently against Eve’s, she can’t help the sigh that leaves her, can’t help but move with the motion. They find a rhythm, pressing their hips tightly together, and then the hand not in her hair shifts down to Eve’s ass and squeezes once, twice, and Eve is gasping into the kiss._

_God, she’s never wanted anyone this badly before, has never felt a need quite so all consuming. Her body is alive with it, thrumming, heart pounding, throbbing. She wants Villanelle, god she wants her, but despite the delicious ache low in her gut and the itch in her fingers to just touch and circle and press, Eve slows the kiss._

_Villanelle goes with it, slowing her pace too, sliding her hand up from Eve’s ass to sit warmly against her lower back, the hand in Eve’s hair no longer tugging but just holding, cradling the back of Eve’s head._

_When they part, their breathing is heavy and hangs moist between them. Eve keeps her eyes closed for a moment and catches her breath, willing her body to stop reacting quite as much, to just calm down a little so that she can think._

_“It’s your turn.” Villanelle mumbles against her lips._

_Eve smiles._

_After a pause and an attempt at thinking clearly, she chuckles a soft laugh against Villanelle’s mouth, then opens her eyes. Hazel eyes are staring down into her own, dark and blown, and Eve almost closes her eyes again just to avoid getting lost._

_But she keeps them open, keeps her gaze locked with Villanelle’s._

_“I like you.” Eve says quietly with a smile._

_Villanelle smiles too and leans back a little, looking at Eve with a sort of amused confusion, like she’s stuck on something but happy about it._

_“I like you too.” She murmurs, still with that same look. “Which is strange, because… I do not usually like people.”_

_“Oh really?” Eve tries not to allow her heart to swell at how special she feels in this moment. “What do you usually do?”_

_“Well, to be honest,” Villanelle says slowly, “I usually just use them and leave them.”_

_And Eve would feel nervous if it wasn’t for the fact that Villanelle is being honest with her. But still, she asks, “Are you planning on doing that to me?”_

_Villanelle frowns and shakes her head, tightening her hold around Eve._

_“No, Eve. I would not. I told you, I like you.”_

_“Okay,” Eve says with a soft smile. “I believe you. You won’t use me and leave me.”_

_“But you are going to leave now, yes?” Villanelle says with a pout, and Eve laughs at the adorable twist of her lips._

_“Yes,” Eve nods. “But only because if I stay we will be giving your plants a show I’m not sure they’ll ever get over.”_

_“But that sounds like fun!” Villanelle whines, playfully tugging on Eve’s shirt. “They will like to watch! But also they are just plants and do not have eyes, so…” Villanelle does her little shoulder shimmy again and Eve grins while taking a step away, gently removing Villanelle’s hands from her shirt._

_“I know, I just… With you, I want to- I want us to be-”_

_Villanelle silences Eve’s cluttered sentence with a kiss to her lips, quick but firm, and Eve smiles into it. When Villanelle pulls away her cheeks are pink, and Eve finds she loves how it looks on her porcelain skin._

_“I know what you mean.” Villanelle says softly. “I would like that too.”_

_Villanelle walks to the door and unlocks and opens it, nodding towards the street._

_“Okay,” Villanelle says with a purposefully put out voice, “off you go, walk away from all of this.”_

_Eve laughs again as Villanelle throws a hand out and poses, face one of disbelief but a barely controlled smile playing on her lips. Eve brushes past her as she heads out the door, stepping down onto the street and turning to face Villanelle who is now leaning against the door frame, arms folded._

_“Go out with me.” Villanelle says, and Eve’s eyes widen in surprise. “On a date. Let’s go out.”_

_“Do you usually ask people on dates?” Eve can’t help but tease._

_“No.” Villanelle says simply, and Eve feels her heart flutter. “This is my first time. So you cannot say no or I will be sad.”_

_“Gee, guess I better say yes then.” Eve replies with a shrug, then she chuckles. “How’s next Friday?”_

_“Perfect. At the cute Italian place down the road, 8 o’clock.”_

_“I’ll be there.” Eve says softly. She bites her lip for a moment, then smiles. “Goodnight Villanelle.”_

_“See you Friday, Eve.” Villanelle smiles back._

_Eve’s stomach flips excitedly, and she nods._

_“Friday.”_

_——_

“Eve, I’m coming up!”

Eve groans into the couch cushion before throwing it away from her in frustration.

“Elena don’t you dare come up here!” She shouts back.

“It’s too late, I am already on the stairs!”

“Oh for god’s sake.” Eve mumbles to herself before yelling again. “Well you better have something alcoholic with you then! Or cake!”

“I have neither.” Elena says as she appears in the doorway, and Eve groans again as she throws her head back. “But I do have something even better.” 

“Cigarettes?”

“No, Eve, ew.” Elena says with a wrinkle of her nose. 

“Then what did you bring?”

Elena throws her arms out and grins wide. 

“Friendship!”

Eve stares at her friend for a moment.

“Okay get out.”

“No, no Eve come on,” Elena says desperately, dropping to her knees by the sofa and clutching Eve’s hands, “You’ve got to leave your home, it’s been two days.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” Eve huffs, shuffling away from Elena to the other side of the couch. “I’m a grown ass woman. I can stay in my own house if I fucking want to.” 

“You can,” Elena nods, “or you could leave it and come with me to the pub where I will buy you alcohol!” 

Eve glares at Elena but considers the offer.

“Which pub?”

“Whichever pub you want, my darling.”

Eve continues to glare but sits upright, shoving the blanket off of her lap. 

“The Assassin?”

“Excellent choice.” Elena says with a grin, standing up with a jump. “One of the best pubs around.”

“You’re just saying that to get me to go.”

“I am, yes.” Elena says, still grinning. She nods towards Eve’s bedroom. “Go on, get changed. I’ll be here.” 

Eve groans again for good measure but stands up and trudges to the bedroom. She grabs a pair of clean Nike joggers and a plain black tee, then runs her fingers through her hair a few times until it looks less like a poorly made nest. She grabs her padded bomber jacket and heads back through to Elena.

“Okay.” She grumbles. “Let’s go.”

——

Eve practically hisses when the light from outside hits her eyes. 

She’s kept the blinds closed for the past couple of days, partly because she wants to pretend, just for a little bit, that the outside world doesn’t exist, and partly because the last time she looked out the window she saw Villanelle sat in her garden, surrounded by dead leaves. 

As if by some other-worldly force, Villanelle had looked up at that exact moment and caught Eve’s eyes, and even that millisecond of contact was enough to make Eve’s heart ache. She could not get away from the window fast enough. 

They find a cosy booth in the far corner of the pub, a stylish place but still with all the antique charm British pubs are known for. This place has an impressive drink selection and Eve heads straight to the bar when they step inside. 

“Gin and tonic?” She asks Elan over her shoulder.

“God, no,” Elena says, sounding unhappy, “I still feel hungover from…” 

She trails off, and Eve turns to look at her.

“From when?” 

“What are you having, ladies?” The bartender asks, and Eve turns back to him with a half smile.

“Wine.” Eve says simply. 

“Uh,” the bartender looks behind him and gestures at their wine collection, “Which wine? Red, white, sparkling-” 

“The house red, please. A bottle and two glasses.”

He grabs their order and charges them, sending them away with a confused expression that matches Elena’s. 

“I guess we’re having wine then.” She mumbles as she sits beside Eve.

“You said I could choose.”

“I said you could choose the pub, I-”

“God damn it Elena we are drinking red wine, if you would like something else than go ahead and buy it.”

“Jesus, Eve.” Elena says, raising her hands and looking alarmed. “I know you’re sad but you don’t need to take it out on me.”

Eve drops her head and sighs.

“Sorry, you’re right.” Eve mumbles into the curtain of curls that block her from the rest of the pub. “I’m just… yeah.”

“Yeah,” mirrors Elena, “I know. So, let’s talk.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Eve says and she lifts her head back up, brushing her hair out of her face and picking up her glass. “Seen any movies lately?”

“Cut the shit.” Elena says, ever the direct friend. “We need to talk about you and Villanelle.”

“We don’t _need_ to do anything.” Eve grumbles. “Besides, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, there’s not?” Elena says in mock surprise. She pulls her phone from the pocket and starts tapping the screen with her thumbs. “Guess I can just text Villanelle then and ask her to join us, if there really is nothing to talk about.”

Eve slaps the phone out of her hands and onto the table with a bang.

“Hey!” Elena huffs. “You break it, you’re buying me a new one. Also, told you so. Start talking.”

“Where do you want me to start?” Eve mumbles, defeated, taking a large sip of wine.

“Well lucky for you,” Elena says with a smile, “I already know most of the story.”

“What?” Eve bites out, glaring, already feeling herself getting angry.

“When I mentioned I was hungover the other day, I mean really, really hungover.” Elena winces, then presses on. “And that’s because I took Villanelle out after your fight.”

“Why would you-”

“Before you start going on at me about betrayal or whatever,” Elena cuts in, one hand lifted in a ‘stop’ motion. “I _had_ to take her somewhere. She was going to murder Hugo, like for real. You heard how hard she slammed the guy into the cabinet!” 

Eve huffs, annoyed, and takes another sip. 

“Besides,” Elena continues, “she looked wild. Like, her eyes went all scary. I’ve never seen her like that before, she was really upset.”

Eve still says nothing. 

“So I took her to The Rose. We talked. Well, she talked. She told me everything, a gorgeous and complicated little love story starring the two of you, with as many ups and downs as the best rom coms out there today.”

Eve almost smiles, and hides it behind the rim of her wine glass.

“We drank a lot. Like I said, she was really upset. I had to walk her home. But the talking was good. I think it helped her sort out some of her thoughts a little. How she can still think and speak in her third language while pissed is beyond me, that girl is a genius.”

Eve nods, then realises she’s nodding and stops, taking another large gulp. Elena sighs.

“Look, Eve,” she implores, and Eve looks at her. She’s being watched with warm brown eyes, comforting but direct. “I can’t imagine how much you’re hurting right now, but I can tell you that Villanelle is hurting badly too. She really likes you. You need to give her a chance to talk.” 

“Why should I?” Eve finally finds her voice, and hates that it comes out rough and slightly broken. “Why should I give her a chance? All she’ll do is apologise for what happened and say it won’t happen again. How am I supposed to trust her when I know what she’s capable of?”

Elena opens her mouth to speak but Eve is on a roll now that she’s started. 

“Remember Niko?” Eve pauses until Elena grimaces with recognition. “Remember when we first became friends, and I’d tell you about how he’d ditched me yet again to go to some art gallery event? How he’d make plans with me and then cancel them last minute for a better offer? Remember when he forgot about my birthday meal? _How he forgot his wife’s birthday party_ because someone at work decided to host a wine tasting event at his fancy house in west London?”

Elena nods, looking uncomfortable, reaching out and putting her hand over Eve’s.

“I vowed I would never let someone turn me into that person again, Elena.” Eve says firmly. “And then Villanelle waltzed into my life, made every thought and feeling in my body about her, then went and made me a second choice too? Clearly found something better to do on the night we were supposed to meet? Or worse, forgot about it?” 

Eve stops to catch her breath, not realising how much speed her rant had picked up. She drinks more wine, nearly finishing the glass.

“I thought being friends with benefits would be fine, because I can trust her as a friend. A good friendship with great sex, what could go wrong? Well somewhere along the line we became a fucking couple, and I just… I will not get trapped in another relationship where I am easily cast aside for better things.” 

“Eve, that’s not-” 

“Please do not defend her right now.” Eve says darkly, sadness laced in with the anger. “I need you to not defend her, okay?”

“Okay.” Elena says with a nod. “I won’t defend her.”

“Good.”

Eve fills her glass with more wine, way over what is considered a normal measure, then immediately drains half of it.

“God, this is not good wine.” She mutters. Elena chuckles sadly.

“No, it’s not, babe.” 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Elena nursing her wine and periodically checking her phone, while Eve looks around the room and takes in the details of the place. There’s a hanging plant above them, the leaves browning. Eve looks away from it quickly. 

“Can I ask you for one thing, Eve?” 

Eve faces Elena again and takes in her careful expression.

“Sure.” Eve says tiredly. 

“Just… just take a couple of days to think about whether you could give her a chance to talk. I’m not asking you to go over there tonight, I’m just… asking you to consider giving her a chance to say her piece. I think she deserves that, considering how she’s treated you these last six months, don’t you?”

Soft kisses under sheets and hands held on the sofa and giggles pressed into hair fill her mind, and she blinks hard at the onslaught. 

“Okay.” Eve sighs. “I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent.” Elena sighs, and she sounds so relieved that Eve is almost intrigued, intrigued at what Villanelle might have to say if Elena is this desperate for Eve to talk to her. 

She takes another sip of wine. 

“Right,” Elena says with finality. “Let’s drink this shitty wine and then order a bottle that is maybe less disgusting, yeah?” 

“You’re paying.” Eve shrugs, and with a small but genuine smile she drains her glass. 

—— 

_Elena: this is the second time in three days that I’ve woken up nearly dead_

_Elena: but both times I’m pretty sure were my own idea and fault_

_Elena: which leads me to wonder_

_Elena: am I a bad influence?_

Eve: Stop texting, it hurts my eyes to look at my screen. 

_Elena: I wish I was sorry but I think I’d be lying at this point_

With a chuckle that morphs into a groan, Eve attempts to sit up in bed. Her head throbs and her mouth tastes like unvacuumed carpet, and she reaches blindly for the water bottle she keeps by her bed. After taking a few gratefully sips, she feels her phone buzz against her thigh.

 _Elena: you haven’t forgotten about what you said you’d do, have you?_

Eve: Sadly, no, I remember everything. 

_Elena: thank fuck_

_Elena: please do consider it babe_

_Elena: I’m even going to promise you, right now, that it’ll be worth it_

Eve: Pretty fucking bold of you to promise something like that. 

_Elena: I live my life out loud_

_Elena: but also I think I’m right, I think it’s worth it_

_Elena: anyway I have to go_

Eve: Where are you going?

_Elena: mcdonald’s or the bathroom, haven’t decided yet xo_

Eve drops her phone with a small laugh and rubs her eyes hard. First, she needs to brush her teeth. 

_‘I know that you brush your teeth before you do anything else in the morning’_

Eve’s heart aches.

But she can’t not brush her teeth.

She goes about it quickly, scrubbing her teeth clean and then hopping in the shower, washing her hair quickly and then drying herself off just as fast.

She isn’t entirely sure why she’s rushing. 

She rushes anyway.

She makes herself a coffee and grabs a bowl, filling it with crunchy nut cornflakes and milk and taking the whole lot upstairs to eat on the sofa. She has the day off, having given herself a few days of holiday last minute, and she plans to spend it doing much the same as the past two days.

Wallowing in self pity and watching sad movies. 

And at that moment, again as if some fucking diety is watching her life like it’s a stage play, her phone buzzes. 

_Elena: please do not just sit around wallowing today babe, try to do at least one productive thing_

_Elena: draw something, for goodness’ sake_

“Why do you hate me?” Eve asks the ceiling.

No answer. 

She eats her cereal while watching some cooking show promise her that this five course meal will be the easiest thing she ever makes, but when she’s done eating she switches the TV off and brings her coffee to her desk.

Draw something. Okay, she can do that. 

The sketchbook and pen from Villanelle sit on her desk. Eve ignores them and reaches for a different sketchbook and a different pen.

She puts the nib to the paper.

And… nothing. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Eve mumbles under her breath. She never gets blocks like this; she always has something flowing from her brain to her hand to her pen. 

This is the first time in years she’s not able to think of a single thing she wants to draw. 

Five years, actually. 

Eve clenches the pen so hard it hurts. 

She draws a tree. It looks weird. 

She draws a whale. It looks like a fish. 

She draws a lighthouse. It looks like a cigarette. 

She drops the pen with a hard sigh, dropping her face into her hands soon after. Not wanting to draw is always a bad sign for Eve, a sign that something really isn’t right, and she knows from experience that last time this happened she wasn’t able to move on until the sadness turned into anger. 

She’s not sure that’ll happen, this time. 

She’s upset. She’s upset at life, at herself, and at Villanelle, but truth be told Villanelle hasn’t really done anything wrong. No, this is happening because of Eve. It’s happening because she got too comfortable, she let herself forget how she was treated not only by her ex husband but also by Villanelle herself. 

Honestly, these last five or six months have been incredible. Villanelle has been nothing but wonderful and sweet and attentive and everything a person would want in a partner. She’s funny and kind and intelligent and hot as fuck; there’s not a lot more you can ask for. 

But this is happening now because Eve needs to stick to the promise she’s made herself not once, but twice now, and that is to never allow herself to be treated like a last resort again. 

Villanelle clearly likes her. A lot. And Eve can’t get over that fact, can’t get over the butterflies that knowledge causes in her stomach and chest, it’s incredible to be wanted and liked and cared for by someone like Villanelle. 

But Eve can’t forget. 

She’s a hard worker. She works hard at life, and she works hard at keeping herself going. Falling back into being a second thought doesn’t work with her life philosophy. 

But. 

But Villanelle does like her. 

Elena’s pleading voice comes back to her, and Eve sighs. 

She could give Villanelle a chance to talk, maybe. Let her apologise, let her say her piece, let her explain why she looked almost annoyed when Eve brought up what happened before. Maybe if she lets Villanelle talk, they can have a discussion, call it a day, and Eve can move on and draw. She’ll be able to draw again, and really, that’s the most important thing. 

She checks the time. 

Not even 11am yet. She could just go now and get it over with. 

God, her heart aches. She thought this sort of longing was only in movies, she didn’t even feel this shit when she got divorced, and if that isn’t a sign that Eve is in this way further than she realised, then she doesn’t know what is. 

She doesn’t want to say the word. She won’t say it, even as her heart beats it on every second thump. She won’t. She can’t. 

Eve splashes her face with cold water, puts on the joggers from the night before and a tight white t-shirt, shrugs on her leather jacket, and takes a deep breath. 

Then she heads out the door.

——

Do you knock on someone's shop door when you’re there to talk rather than buy something? Like, what are the rules? Eve hasn’t got a fucking clue how this works, and is about to turn back when Elena’s voice comes to her like some unwelcome ghost. 

She’s not going to knock. 

She pushes open the door. 

“Out in a second!”

God, that soft Russian accent sets off a fluttering warmth in her chest. Eve steels herself, straightens her back. 

“It’s me.”

There’s a clatter and then a clang of metal, followed by a muttered curse and a hiss. The sound of quick footsteps and shuffling paper has Eve frowning, and she’s about to ask if now isn’t a good time when Villanelle appears, a wad of tissues pressed against her palm and her eyes wide in surprise. 

“Eve, hi.” She says it breathlessly, like she can’t quite believe what’s happening, and Eve tries to smile. She’s certain it’s more of a grimace. “What are you- I thought-”

“I know.” Eve cuts in, half because she wants the get this over with and half because seeing Villanelle is already making her forget why she’s upset in the first place. “A, uh, a persistent, annoying, bad influence of a little birdie told me I should probably come speak to you. Or at least let _you_ speak.”

Villanelle doesn’t say anything, just stares with wide hazel eyes, pressing the tissues rhythmically into her hand. 

“What happened?” Eve frowns a little, gesturing at Villanelle’s ball of tissues. 

“Oh,” Villanelle says, startled as if she’d forgotten. She lifts her palm and shows Eve three long scratches, beads of blood already forming in the seconds she’s stopped pressing with the tissues. “I was cutting roses. Beautiful, but, you know, every rose has its thorn.” She finishes with a weak smile, and Eve plays the saying over again in her head. 

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “They do.”

It’s silent for a moment, and then Villanelle walks over to her counter and reaches underneath for a first aid kit. 

“So what…” Villanelle trails off, frowning, and tearing open an alcohol wipe. “So what would you like to talk about? Or… what would you like me to talk about?” 

Eve sighs, every second in Villanelle’s company making her chest ache more and more, and she’s scared that soon she’ll simply keel over from lack of air. She clears her throat. 

“This is your chance to explain.” Eve says carefully, looking up at Villanelle as the blonde finishes cleaning her hand. It’s hard to keep eye contact, but she doesn’t look away. She feels Villanelle deserves that much. “So… if there’s anything you want to tell me, or talk about, or say-” 

“I miss you.” 

Eve’s heart clenches at the desperate tone in Villanelle’s voice, the hazel eyes turning shiny. 

“I miss you so much Eve. I don’t… I feel like I do not know what to do with myself. I want to tell you about everything, about my day and what I have been thinking and what I had for lunch. I want to know what you had for lunch. I miss playing with your hair, I miss watching movies with you.”

Eve starts to shake her head but Villanelle presses on. 

“I want to explain. I want to tell you about what happened, back then.”

“Okay.” Eve says, straightening up and bracing herself. “Tell me. And don’t-” she says just as Villanelle opens her mouth, “don’t tell me you miss me again, okay? Please? It’s already hard enough being here.” 

Villanelle nods, fingers twisting the bloody tissue into knots. 

“Eve, I did not stand-”

The bell above the door tinkles. 

“Nell!” 

Eve turns on the spot, ready to murder whoever has walked in just as she was about to get closure, but the face she’s greeted with gives her pause. 

“Don’t I know you?” 

“Eve! Hi, it’s me, Amber! You did my calf like, 6 months ago!”

“Amber, right.” Eve says slowly, taking in the stylishly ripped jeans and wild, wavy hair. “Um, if you wouldn’t mind, Villanelle and I were just-” 

“Oh I’ll only be a second, I promise!” Amber says cheerfully, before stepping to the side and waving brightly at Villanelle. 

Villanelle, who looks like the only thing she wants is to be swallowed by the ground or torn apart by rose thorns. 

“So I realised I never got your number Friday!”

Eve feels her blood turn cold. 

“Um, Amber, now isn’t-”

“I had so much fun, I just had to come and see you so we could swap numbers. I wondered if maybe you’d like to do it again this Friday?” 

Eve starts to smile because honestly, what did she expect? That Eve really was special to Villanelle? That she mattered? That she wasn’t something to be played with until something, _someone_ , better came along? She starts to shake her head.

“Wow.” She murmurs through the grimace she knows her lips have formed. “Fucking _wow_.” 

“No, Eve, it’s not like that-” 

“Okay, seems like you guys are chatting about something pretty serious so I’ll go.” Amber says with a nervous laugh, before pointing a manicured finger at Villanelle. “I’ll message you so we can arrange Friday. I’ll even buy you dinner first this time.” 

And Christ, Amber actually winks at Villanelle, and Villanelle is pale and her chest is rising and falling quickly and her fingers look like they’re shaking against the countertop. 

“Uh…” Amber says, now watching Villanelle cautiously, “Okay, bye you two.” 

“No, Amber, you stay.” Eve is surprised at how steady and calm her own voice sounds. “I’m leaving.” 

“Eve, please-” 

“Don’t.” Snaps Eve loudly, walking to the door, ignoring Amber’s awkward presence completely now. She glares at Villanelle, feeling the crack widening in her heart feuling her anger. “Don’t you dare tell me to stay, or tell me I’m misunderstanding. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I thought that maybe I was wrong, that you’d be able to explain. Fuck, I’m so stupid.” 

She feels tears threaten to choke her so she turns and pushes the door open violently, rushing into the street and gasping as a cold gust of wind burns her cheeks. 

She immediately hurries back towards her studio, but heavy footsteps behind her makes her turn. 

“Eve, wait, please-”

“If you come one step closer I will leave, I will move my studio across town if you take one more fucking step!” 

She shouts it, almost shrieks it, and Villanelle freezes in place, one hand outstretched and tear tracks on her cheeks.

They stay like that for what feels like hours, days, but can only be 10 seconds at most. Villanelle stays quiet, her breath gasping a little in the freezing January weather, not moving but crying openly. 

“Just stop. Go back.” Eve croaks, crying too now. “Go back, and leave me alone.” 

Villanelle’s outstretched hand crumples into a fist as she drops it by her side. With one last look at Eve, she turns, and slowly walks back to her flower shop. 

And god, even after all of this, even through the pain hammering in Eve’s chest, the fact that Villanelle is respecting her wishes and doing what she asks her to makes that usual warmth flutter somewhere in her broken heart. 

Eve walks the remaining distance to her studio, and as she closes the door behind her, she swears she hears a miserable scream, muffled by walls, not ten metres away from where she stands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS. I promise it’ll get better eventually. It’s already written so I can guarantee it!
> 
> Also, points to anyone who picked up on the pink carnations connection :3


	21. Stealth!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little lighter after the last chapter! People got real mad at Amber! C’mon folks, she’s just being Amber, she’s okay.

When Villanelle was little, she killed her pet rabbit. Then she killed her second pet rabbit. Then she wasn’t allowed pets.

She moved on to fight at school, taking a kind of pleasure in making the other children cry, bruises blooming on their knees or cheeks. She confused the teachers by getting perfect scores in every test, on every piece of homework, while spending every minute not in class terrorising pupils and staff. 

Villanelle listened only to herself. She took orders when they were academic, orders to do homework or orders to answer questions, but besides that, people could not tell her what to do. 

She didn’t like authority, hated being told to follow the rules, despised anyone that thought they could make her do something she didn’t want to do. She stayed that way from childhood all the way into adulthood. 

So when Eve furiously told her to stop, to not take another step, Villanelle was shocked that her body did just that. 

She froze. Nothing her mind screamed could make her body close the distance between herself and Eve. All she wanted to do was shout and plead and hold Eve until she let Villanelle explain, but she couldn’t do it. Eve told her to stop, so she stopped. She told her to leave her alone, so she walked away. 

She walks back into her shop. 

And screams. 

She asks Amber to leave, and she does. Villanelle paces for a while, gets her breathing under control, then gets a glass of water. She drinks it. 

She goes back to the roses, the ones who scratched her palm about fifty thousand years ago, and carries on cutting them. She arranges them into a bouquet and wraps them in paper, finishing it off with string. 

She brings it out onto the shop floor and puts it on the counter. The customer will be here in two hours to collect it. She will wait. 

It is all about going through the motions. 

Villanelle feels like something has switched off inside of her. Like something is missing, something that was there before Eve stopped by. She feels… empty, but also so full of every emotion she’s ever felt that she’s worried she might throw up. 

So she just goes through the motions, lets muscle memory keep her going. 

She breathes, in and out, in and out. 

She waits for the customer. 

Somehow, two hours pass and the man comes in to collect the roses. She greets him, she smiles, she makes small talk. She asks who the flowers are for, oh for your wife? How sweet, she will love them. And it is your anniversary? These will be perfect, make sure to clip the stems to make them last longer, okay, goodbye, nice meeting you, have a wonderful night, do not forget to tell her you love her, do not let her believe for even a second that she isn’t everything to you, okay?

He gives her a funny look but smiles anyway, saying goodbye as he leaves. 

Villanelle checks the time. 

Not even 1pm. 

She can play shop owner for a little longer. 

Her brain feels too full of deafening silence to allow any room for thought, but she tries anyway. Tries to make sense of what is happening, tries to understand what has gone wrong, tries to work out what could possibly be done to even begin to fix this mess, but one thing stands out above everything else. 

She loves Eve.

She is definitely, absolutely, completely in love with Eve. 

Villanelle sighs, feeling something shift from her shoulders as she allows the thought to take solid form for the first time in… weeks? Months, maybe? 

She’s in love with Eve and she wants her, wants everything about her, wants her melodic laugh and her gorgeous hair and her angry moods and her soft skin and her foul language and her warm eyes and her bad habits and her heart, her heart, her huge, kind, golden heart. 

Eve can have Villanelle’s heart too, if she’d like it. Villanelle will offer it up on a silver platter if it would make Eve happy. 

More weight seems to slide off her back with each thought and she feels lighter, lighter now that these realisations are allowed to step out into the open and spread their curled up wings.

She feels lighter, and then she feels stronger, and then she feels determined. She feels what used to get young Villanelle into so much trouble, but what made her such a formidable force. 

She feels that familiar rebellious vibration run down her spine.

Villanelle doesn’t like being told what to do. 

She will leave Eve alone, for now. 

But there is not a chance in hell she is going to  _ stop _ . 

——

A quick but lengthy message to Elena and an immediate ‘oh what the fuck’ reply later, and the two of them are sat in the local bakery. 

“This is unbelievable.” Elena mutters, shaking her head. “This is un-fucking-believable.”

“Listen,” says Villanelle firmly. “I agree. I do not understand what I did to deserve this but I am starting to think it has something to do with the rabbits I killed.”

“You killed rabbits?” Elena says in alarm, and Villanelle remembers that Elena doesn’t know this about her. 

“Anyway,” she hurries on, “I am very close to losing my mind completely, because if this is what heartbreak is then I am pretty sure I cannot handle it for more than another few days.”

“Oh, babe.” Elena says sadly, but Villanelle doesn’t want pity. 

“No, I am fine.” Villanelle frowns and takes a sip of her not chocolate. “I am not fine but I am fine. I have one more idea,  _ one more thing _ that I can try that might get Eve to look at me again without crying or shouting.”

“Okay,” Elena says eagerly, staring at Villanelle with wide, expectant eyes, “go on, what is it?”

“I am going to get Eve a signed Sailor Jerry flash sheet.”

Elena stares at for a moment. 

“They’re like two grand, hun.” 

“I am aware of how much they are,” Villanelle scoffs, “but who says I am going to pay for one?”

Elena continues to stare. 

“I’m fucking lost.”

Villanelle grins and shoves some torn up croissant into her mouth, aware that she’s probably looking a little on the manic side right now, judging by Elena’s slightly wary look. 

“The girl I mentioned in the text, Amber.” Villanelle explains. “She is the sister of a boring weirdo who collects art. He just so happens to have one of these tattoo sheets in his collection.”

“So you’re going to seduce Amber to get the sheet?” Elena starts. “That really isn’t a good idea.”

“God, no, what?” Villanelle says incredulously, and Elena throws her hands up in a shrug. “No, I am not going to seduce her. I hung out with her last week, I went to hers and I scoped the place out. I found his art room.”

“You were at hers?” Elena asks, and she’s starting to look annoyed now. “Villanelle what the hell were you playing at, you-”

“I did not sleep with her!” Villanelle’s half shouts, ignoring the looks it draws from people sat around them. “Why is that what everyone jumps to? We just played Mario kart! Why do people think I cannot just have a female friend?”

Elena deadpans her. 

“You tried to sleep with me when we first met.”

“Yes,” Villanelle nods before tilting her head and shrugging with one shoulder, “but that was just to piss Eve off.”

“Excuse me? Am I not good enough to shag without pettiness being the motivator?”

“Please, Elena, you are very pretty,” Villanelle sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “but we are getting off track. I only want to sleep with Eve, she is the only one, okay? I do not want Amber, I do not want anyone else.”

Elena is silent for a moment, studying Villanelle, and then bursts out laughing. 

“God this is ridiculous,” she laughs, “but honestly the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

Villanelle glares at her friend and shoves more croissant in her mouth. 

“I am glad my pain is amusing to you.” She says around a mouth full of pastry, making Elena wrinkle her nose. “But we need to be serious now.”

“Okay, okay, carry on. Amber is art man’s sister, you scoped the house out for his art room like a fucking maniac, and now Eve thinks you fucked her while supposedly mourning the ending of you and Eve.”

Villanelle swallows her pastry and points a finger at Elena.

“Correct.” She says firmly. “But I was playing Mario kart.”

“But you were playing Mario kart. Do you think this bakery serves alcohol?” Elena looks around desperately and Villanelle grabs her hand on the tabletop. 

“Elena,” Villanelle snaps, “focus. I am telling you my plan.”

“Right, come on then, hit me.” Elena says sarcastically, leaving her hand clutched beneath Villanelle’s but leaning back in her chair. “What’s the plan? Break into their house and steal the flash sheet?”

“Literally exactly that.”

Elena puckers her lips thoughtfully and nods for a moment, narrowed eyes darting between both of Villanelle’s. 

“Okay. You’ve gone insane.”

“Yes, possibly,” says Villanelle, and she’s not entirely sure when she started talking in hushed conspiratorial tones, but she finds that it fits the mood, “but we will talk about that later. Right now, I need an all black outfit for stealth.”

“For stealth?”

“For stealth.”

Elena sighs and shakes her head, dragging a finger through the whipped cream on her hot chocolate and pointing it at Villanelle. 

“Villanelle, you are going to get yourself arrested.”

She watches Elena suck the cream off her finger, then takes a deep breath. 

“In the name of love.”

Silence. 

“In the name of love?”

“Why do you keep repeating what I say?”

“Because you keep saying very surprising things and I need to clarify!”

Villanelle waits patiently as Elena drinks some hot chocolate, her friend’s brow furrowed in thought. 

“You love Eve?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Elena says with a small laugh. “Took you long enough to admit it, but I’m proud of you.”

Elena picks up her drink and Villanelle watches as she drains the remaining hot chocolate before slamming the mug down.

“Right, anyway,” she says brightly, “let’s move on. I want to tell you about what Kenny said to me yesterday.”

———

Tight black gym leggings. A matching full length black top. Black running trainers. A really beautiful black silk headscarf from Aspinal of London covered in tiny white stars and constellations for only £95.

Her stealth outfit is complete. And stylish. Villanelle admires herself in the mirror for a bit before shoving things she might need into her small black backpack.

Gloves (for leaving no fingerprints).

Tape (for picking up fibres).

Screwdriver (for hinges, like if a... door needs to be removed, or something).

A snack (for if she gets hungry).

She’s putting the finishing touches to her dark make up when Elena walks into her room and stares at her in the mirror’s reflection.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Villanelle looks confused, and gestures down at herself.

“My stealth outfit?’

“I thought you were joking about that.”

“Why would I joke? I am robbing someone, I need to blend in.”

“Blend into what? Does he live in a cave?”

Villanelle purses her lips.

“...no.”

“Okay,” Elena says, stepping closer to Villanelle who turns to face her properly, “and don’t you think that maybe ‘I’m friends with your sister’ is a better excuse for being in his house if you get caught, than just trying to  _ blend _ into the shadows?”

Villanelle narrows her eyes.

“You are making this less fun.”

“You are planning on breaking into someone’s house to steal a collectible.” Elena says exasperatedly. “This is not supposed to be fun!”

“Well you have obviously never stolen anything before.” Villanelle mumbles, raising her eyebrows to herself as she turns back to the mirror. “But maybe you are right on the whole sister excuse front.”

She sighs sadly as she tugs off her trainers.

“Oh thank god, you’re not going to go through with it. I was starting to actually believe you were, for a minute.”

Villanelle hesitates, then laughs.

“Ha, no, of course not.” She scoffs. She’s always been a good liar. “It was fun to pretend for a while though, right?”

“Right.” Elena says with a smile. “So, want to watch TV or something?”

“No, I think instead I will sit down and write Eve a letter.” Villanelle pulls off her long sleeved top and shakes her hair out. “If she will not see me, maybe she will be okay with reading something I’ve written.”

“That’s a cute idea,” Elena nods, bending to pick up her bag from by Villanelle’s bed, “I’ll leave you to it then. Text me later?”

“Will do, thank you for spending some time with me today, I really needed it.”

“No problem babe.” Elena hugs her tightly, then steps away. “Just don’t go joking with me like that again, you’re scarily believable.”

Villanelle grins and waves as Elena steps out of her room, and as she hears her footsteps on the stairs, Villanelle dashes to her closet. She pulls out a floaty yellow button down shirt and drags it on, then puts her hair in a ponytail with the black silk scarf. She pulls the running shoes back on, grabs the backpack and her coat, and leaves.

A letter. Pfft. As if Villanelle would simply write a letter to Eve when she could break into an art collector’s home and steal something worthwhile for her instead.

It is like Elena doesn’t even know what romance is.

——

The Peel house stands before her, tall and grand with its red brick and dark windows, darker still now that the night sky is hanging over the city. 

She’d noted that the backdoor was open when she was here last week, gorgeous french doors overlooking a beautiful garden with high walls lining each edge. She’d looked at those walls, guesstimating how high they were, working out that she could probably climb one if she could find something on the other side to give her a boost.

The garden has other gardens on each side of it, belonging to their neighbours, but Villanelle isn’t worried. One has an alleyway running down it so she makes her way there, spotting a plastic wheelie bin down at the far end. Walking softly, she reaches the bin and climbs up, peering over the wall to see if there is any activity in the back rooms of this neighbour's house.

Nothing. No lights on, no movement. Perfect.

She swings a leg over and drops down onto the grass, crouching immediately to soften the blow on her ankles then darting across the dark garden to the far wall. There’s a hedge running along it, so Villanelle uses it to get some height, ignoring the scratches she feels against her ankles. 

Her hands grip the top of the wall and again she pulls herself up to peek over. There are no lights on downstairs in the Peele home, but upstairs she can see a lamp on in the back room above the kitchen. She knows that this is Amber’s room.

Good. Amber being home means the ‘sister’s friend’ excuse will be a lot more solid if she has to use it on Aaron.

She waits for a few minutes, studying the rooms through the windows, but there is no movement. She thinks she hears faint music, maybe filtering from Amber’s closed window, which again Villanelle is thankful for. Music will make a great cover up if she happens to make any noise.

Villanelle pulls herself up and over the wall and lands in a flower bed.

“Oh god, I am so sorry.” She whispers to the purple pansies she’s just flattened. “It is in the name of love, please forgive me.”

Maybe Elena had a point about Villanelle going insane.

She makes her way down the length of the garden, staying close to the wall, then reaches the doors. She tries them, and they’re open. She sends a prayer of thanks out into the universe for privileged rich kids and their inability to recognise that not even the fanciest areas of London are safe, and slips inside the house.

The kitchen is dark and quiet. She creeps quietly, keeping her footsteps light but not lingering in any position too long, eager to get up the two flights of stairs as quickly as possible. The carpeted floor of the hallways and first staircase help, and she tiptoes up without making a sound.

She finds her first problem on the landing, in the form of a toilet flushing.

She has no time to move before Amber steps out of the bathroom door and turning straight into Villanelle.

“Holy-”

Villanelle rushes at Amber, putting a hand over her mouth and pushing her towards Amber’s bedroom, hushing her the whole time and trying to be as gentle as possible. Amber goes without a fight, alarm and fear quickly turning into confusion as Villanelle closes the door, hand still over Amber’s mouth.

She pulls it away slowly.

“-fuck.”

“Amber, I know this might seem a little strange.” Villanelle says in hushed tones. “But you will just have to trust me that I am here for a perfectly normal reason, okay?”

“You’re in my house…”

“Yes, I know, but…” Villanelle looks around, hoping to find the answer to this issue in the air somewhere. “Okay, uh, Amber, if you do something for me, I will give you something in return.”

Amber’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, and Villanelle honestly can’t believe that the younger woman is even giving her a chance to bargain.

“Go on.”

“If you do not tell anyone that I have been here, I will get you a free tattoo at Original Sin. A two hour session. How’s that?”

“You can do that?”

“Um,” Villanelle hums, “yes. I can.”

“Oh.” Amber says, then she grins. “Awesome! Okay, I never saw you.”

“Yes, thank you so much, you are a good friend.”

“Aw, Nell,” Amber says bashfully, pulling Villanelle into a hug, “You’re such a sweetheart.”

“Yes, well,” Villanelle says, now confused herself at the direction this conversation has gone in, “it takes one to know one.”

“We’re going to be best friends,” Amber says, letting Villanelle go, “I can tell.”

“Sure.” Villanelle agrees. “But now I really have to go. Please, do not tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay,” Amber says easily, strolling over to her bed and dropping onto it, picking up a book left open on the pillow. “Have fun!”

Villanelle steps quietly out of the room and stands in the hallway for a moment.

What just happened?

She shakes her head, then walks to the second staircase. 

This one she moves up slower, trying to keep her movements as silent as possible. Once at the top, she sneaks straight to the door from her last trip, the one that houses Aaron’s collectibles, and hopefully the one that will be unlocked, like last time.

She tries the handle.

It opens.

With a relieved and silent sigh, she slips into the room, leaving the door ajar behind her so she can listen out for movement.

Villanelle heads to the cabinets and reads the labels, scanning them until she finds ‘illustrative prints’ on one of the drawers. Slowly, carefully, she pulls the drawer out to find tens of plastic wallets all neatly pressed together and each housing a print. She starts to flick through them.

There are cartoon illustrations, book illustrations, poster illustrations, and other tattoo illustrations packed into this drawer. Villanelle feels her heart pounding in her chest, getting harder to ignore with each print she passes not covered in the recognisable Sailor Jerry drawings.

She hears a shuffle from downstairs and freezes, ears pricked, but nothing follows. Amber must be moving about in her room. Villanelle realises she should have told the woman to stay still for a while, at the very least to stop Villanelle from freaking out and losing concentration.

She continues to flick through the files, getting nervous as she gets closer to the end, but then she finds it. She almost flicks past it but does a double take, and there, right near the back of the drawer, is the Sailor Jerry tattoo flash sheet, complete with three coloured illustrations, notes, and his signature. 

She slides it out of the plastic film, careful not to crease it, then rests it on top of the other prints. As quietly and quickly as she can she shrugs off her backpack and turns to lower it to the floor.

She turns.

And she’s face to face with Aaron Peel.

“Who the hell are you?”

Villanelle’s blood runs cold. She can hear her blood pumping in her ears, can feel the hammering of her heart in her chest. She blows out a steadying breath and opens her mouth to reply.

“Oh, Aaron, you’ve met my friend Nell!”

Amber appears behind Aaron’s shoulder, throwing an incredulous gaze at Villanelle and shaking her head in confusion a little before turning to Aaron and grinning casually.

He scowls at Amber, then at Villanelle, and points out into the hallway.

“Get out.”

“Jeez, okay.” Villanelle runs with Amber’s coverup and acts defensive. “I was just looking! I’ll go.”

As inconspicuous as she can she closes the drawer with her hip, messing with her backpack to cover the movement. Amber spots her and tugs quickly on Aaron’s arm, and with a genuine warmth Villanelle realises Amber is trying to help her by distracting him.

“Aaron, Arry, hey.” She says, putting on an indignant voice. “Don’t be rude to my friend, she didn’t know.”

He turns on her, intimidating, but Amber stands her ground.

“Your ‘friend’ is a thief.” He growls. “She was going through my things, probably about to steal from me.” He turns back to Villanelle, his neck going red and splotchy with anger. “Get out of my house.”

Villanelle is not going to argue with that. This came way too close. She wants the sheet, she will get the sheet, but not tonight.

“Fine, fine, I’m going.”

She walks across the room and steps past Aaron. Then she hears it.

“Filthy Russian.”

Villanelle sighs. She was about to leave, about to get out of the house with no consequences, and now Aaron has gone and ruined it. She wishes it didn’t have to come to this.

Villanelle turns on the spot and punches him hard in the face.

He goes down with a yell of pain as Villanelle shakes her fingers out, wincing a little. It’s been a few years since she last punched someone.

“Well,” Amber says quietly, staring down at her brother and then up at Villanelle, somewhat impressed, “shit.”

“Yes,” Villanelle mumbles, watching the man grunt as he probes his now bleeding, definitely broken nose, “shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Amber is a good guy!


	22. Mop and Bucket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vom!! Nice

Eve is pulling on her pyjamas when the studio phone rings downstairs. 

She ignores it. 

Turning off her lamp and sliding under the covers, she sighs and waits for the phone to stop ringing. When it does, she lets her eyes slip shut. 

It starts ringing again. 

Eve sits up in bed and listens to the ring, a little confused as to why someone is trying to call her. If it’s important then they’ll call her mobile, surely? Again, she waits for it to stop.

Her head hasn’t even hit the pillow again when the ringing starts back up. She climbs out of bed and shoves her slippers on, rushing down the stairs and through the kitchen to reach the phone in time. 

“Hello, Eve Polastri speaking.” 

“Oh good, you are awake.”

“Um,” Eve starts, frowning at the slightly recognisable voice, “who is this?”

“It is Konstantin.”

“Konstantin?” Eve feels a traitorous stab of panic in her chest. 

“Yes, hello,” he says gruffly, and Eve can hear music in the background. “I am sorry I had to call your studio number but it was the only one on google.”

“Konstantin, it’s…” Eve checks her watch, “1am. Why are you calling?”

“I need you to come and get Villanelle from my bar.”

Eve almost fumbles the phone. 

“What? Why?”

“Because she cannot get home herself.”

Eve frowns, putting her free hand on her hip. 

“Again, why?”

“From what I can understand,” Konstantin sighs, “she broke into someone’s house, punched them in the face, then left and went on what I think the English call ‘a bender’. She is, ah, extremely drunk.”

Eve is silent, frozen in spot, playing the words over in her head like they’ll suddenly start to make sense. She brings her hand to her forehead. 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck?”

“I know,” he huffs, “it has been a few years since she has done this. I thought she had grown out of it.”

“She’s done this before?”

“If something really upsets Villanelle, she either lashes out against others or herself. But she has to be very very...” Eve waits as Konstantin searches for the word, “distressed, before she lashes out at herself like this. She likes herself too much, so she is obviously very unhappy.”

Eve’s gut is twisting anxiously, and she fucking hates that it’s easily recognisable as worry. She’s worried about Villanelle. 

“Why can’t she make her own way home?” Eve asks frustratedly, trying to steamroll the nervous emotions swirling inside of her with a bluntness she doesn’t really feel. “It’s half a street away.”

“Eve she is very drunk right now, and I do not trust her not to do anything else stupid, purposefully or otherwise.” Konstantin sighs again, sounding tired. “I cannot take her back myself. I am still on crutches and she needs supporting, plus I am the only one on the bar tonight.”

Eve doesn’t say anything for a moment, and taps her slippered foot. 

“Villanelle and I aren’t speaking at the moment.”

“I know.”

Eve blinks. 

“You know?” She asks, startled. “How?”

“Because she told me,” he says simply, “she sat here a few nights ago, drinking whiskey and talking about you for almost two hours.”

“I see,” says Eve, because what else is she supposed to say? She leans against the main desk and rubs at her eyes. 

“So, will you come and get her? Do not worry, she probably will not want to talk much. Actually I am not sure if she really can talk… just get her home and put a bucket by her bed.”

“Konstantin, I really don’t want-”

“Please, Eve. I have to get back to work. If you do this, there is a bottle of top shelf whisky in it for you, okay? And I will make sure to talk her out of any crazy schemes that impact you in the future.” She hears shuffling in the other end and the clink of a glass. “Just, please come and get her. She is my family, Eve.”

And honestly, fuck Konstantin for throwing that in there and making her resolve slide from her grasp. 

“Shit,” Eve says angrily, “fine, fine. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thank you,” Konstantin says, already sounding distracted, “I owe you one. I will not tell her you are coming, that should make things easier.”

“Why would it make things easier?”

“Villanelle does not like to appear weak, you should know this by now.” Konstantin says, and Eve sighs. “She will not like you seeing her like this, and I think if I tell her you are coming she will try to run away.”

“Run away?” Eve asks, rubbing her forehead tiredly. “She’s not a child…”

“Eve,” Konstantin sighs, “I once had to collect her from the police station, because she had been arrested for damage to property.”

“Oh my god, what did she do?”

“A man drove past her and honked at her while she was putting the flowers out, shouted some stuff at her too. She was already having a bad week, so she took down his license plate number,  _ somehow _ found out where he lived, then went to his house and threw a rock through his window.”

“Oh Christ.” Eve pinches the bridge of her nose. “How did he know it was her?”

“She tied a rose to the rock and wrote ‘nice tits, flower girl’, which is apparently what he said to her.”

“Ah.” Eve says, trying hard to fight the smile attempting to form. “I mean… sounds like he deserved it.” 

“You are as bad as each other,” he chuckles, “ no wonder she likes you so much.”

Eve chooses to ignore him, and the way her heart skips. 

“Okay. I’ll see you in ten, Konstantin.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Eve hangs up the phone and immediately sits on the floor. 

Why did she say yes? 

She knows why she said yes. Because Villanelle needs help, and Eve may be furiously heartbroken but that doesn’t mean she’ll behave like an indecent human being. 

A person needs her help, and so she will help them. Even if that person broke her heart. And not because an excuse to see Villanelle again, to feel the warmth of her as she walks her home under the guise of doing Konstantin a favour, is too much to pass up on. 

She stands up and makes her way back upstairs to get changed. 

——

Hair loose, joggers and sweatshirt on and a bomber jacket over the top, Eve stands on the path outside Vasiliev’s, trying to find her nerve. She reminds herself that Villanelle is apparently a bit worse for wear, so it’s not like this is going to be a serious moment full of meaningful conversation. It’ll just be Eve propping Villanelle up on the way home and putting her through the front door. That’s all. 

She steps inside, immediately hit by warm air, then looks around and spots Konstantin who is busy serving customers. He sees her as he looks up to grab a bottle, and waves her over. 

“Eve, good,” he says while mixing a customer’s cocktail, “she is just over there. Come by tomorrow and you have your pick of bottles, okay?”

He’s gesturing to a booth in a dark corner, placed perfectly in view of the bar and Konstantin but mostly hidden from the rest of the club. Eve’s eyes adjust to the darkness as she takes a few steps towards it. 

She feels her chest tighten anxiously. 

Villanelle is slumped in the booth, head lolling against her shoulder and her body leaning dangerously sideways. Her hair is a mess and her skin looks pale and dewy, and the loose yellow button down she’s wearing is very close to slipping too far down. 

Eve sighs as she goes, trying her best to ignore the part of her that wants to comfort and protect Villanelle, and focusing instead on the part that is still angry and upset and hurt. 

But the closer she gets, the harder it is to focus on that. Villanelle looks so small. 

Eve reaches the table and puts a hand gently on Villanelle’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” she says softly, “wake up.”

Villanelle stirs and mumbles, but ends up slipping further sideways. Eve sighs. 

“Villanelle? It’s me. It’s Eve.”

A pair bloodshot and unfocused eyes flicker open and look at Eve unsteadily, the brow above them furrowing. 

“No,” Villanelle murmurs, “no, no no no, not you, Eve, please go.”

Eve welcomes the sting. 

“Well, tough shit, I’m here.”

“Do not look at me.” Villanelle slurs. “You can’t… do not look.”

At this, Villanelle starts trying to pull her shirt up to cover her face but in doing so is revealing more and more of her stomach. Eve reaches forward and stops her before she flashes everyone at the bar. 

“Stop that.” Eve says firmly, and Villanelle let’s go with a pout. “Come on, time to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home.”

“But… you…” Villanelle tries to sit upright but slips down again. She stares up at Eve blearily. “You hate me.”

“I don’t-” Eve hesitates, then sighs. “I don’t hate you, Villanelle. Come on, let’s just get you home, okay?”

“You are nice to lie,” Villanelle slurs, letting herself fall fully onto her side, lying on the long plush seat of the booth, “but…”

Eve waits, but Villanelle doesn’t say anything else. She peers around the table, then groans when she sees that Villanelle’s eyes have shut. 

“No, Vil, wake up.” Eve says, sliding into the booth herself and pulling the woman upright to lean heavily against her side. “Let’s go.”

“Ty tak mmoga znachish dlya menya,” Villanelle slurs in Russian, opening her eyes and staring into Eve’s desperately. “Okay?”

“Um…” Eve says quietly, confused, unable to look away from Villanelle’s hazy and pink rimmed eyes, “okay.”

Villanelle nods sloppily, then starts to stand up. Eve gets up too and puts her arm out to steady Villanelle, who immediately falls into her and doesn’t right herself again. 

“Jesus, okay Vil, come on.”

She smells like vodka and sweat and Villanelle, and she groans as Eve pulls her out of the booth. Eve catches Konstantin’s eye as she holds Villanelle up and he flashes her a sympathetic smile and a nod. 

Eve starts to half guide, half drag Villanelle towards the exit, the younger woman barely able to put one foot in front of the other without swaying dangerously. 

“God, how much did you drink?”

Villanelle mumbles something Eve can't make out. When they reach the door, a nearby customer rushes over to helpfully hold it open for them. 

“Thank you.” Eve says, stepping outside into the cold January air. 

“He won’t,” Villanelle slurs, “not like I do.”

“I have literally no idea what you’re talking about, Vil.” Eve says, a little breathless as she supports most of Villanelle’s weight.”

Villanelle whimpers and suddenly pulls out of Eve’s arms, falling sideways onto the wall next to them and accidentally knocking her head on the brick. 

“Shit,” Eve mutters, quickly reaching up a hand to feel at the side Villanelle’s forehead for any blood, “are you okay?”

“You do not know what I am talking about,” Villanelle says around a slow tongue, “because you will not  _ listen _ to me.”

It sounds like she’s trying hard to get the words out, and she’s glaring at Eve now, who stands at a loss for words. 

“I’m not talking about this now.”

“You won’t-” Villanelle starts, taking a steadying breath, “you won’t talk about it ever. Why won’t you let me talk?”

“Because…” and Eve really doesn’t want to do this against a brick wall, “ _ because _ , okay? Because I’m allowed to have my own feelings.”

“And I am not?”

Villanelle is staring Eve down, and it’s piercing, despite the drunken haze. Eve shifts uncomfortably because fuck, drunk people aren’t supposed to be able to argue so well, they’re not supposed to have valid remarks like that. 

This isn’t going how she’d thought it would. 

“Can we please just get you home?”

Villanelle sighs, then winces as she pushes away from the wall and back into Eve. 

“See? You won’t let me have a chance. You think I do not feel?”

“No, Vil. I know you feel things.”

“Then why am I not allowed to talk about them with you?” Villanelle asks sadly, stumbling a little underneath Eve’s arm slung around her shoulders. “Why are you the only one who can let out their feelings?”

“Because this isn’t my fault.” Eve snaps, and thank god they’re only a few more metres from Villanelle’s front door. 

Villanelle stops suddenly, dragging them to a halt. Eve tries to pull her but Villanelle won’t move. 

“My fault?” Villanelle mumbles. “How do you know when you won’t let me explain?”

Eve doesn’t say anything, just stares at the ground and hopes that Villanelle will forget or move on or anything, because this conversation is starting to make Eve feel like shit. Feeling like shit doesn’t gel with her heartbroken rage. 

Villanelle takes another step and Eve sighs in relief. They make the last few wobbly metres and Eve reaches for Villanelle’s backpack. Villanelle glares at her. 

“I just want to find your keys.” Eve says bluntly. Villanelle shrugs the bag off her back and Eve takes it as Villanelle props herself up against the wall. 

Rooting around in the bag that is confusingly full of tape, latex gloves and a banana, Eve finds Villanelle’s keys. 

Something catches her eye. 

There are a few key rings on the keys, but one in particular has Eve bringing them closer to see better. It’s a rectangle of plastic, and inside is a photo of Eve and Villanelle on the London Eye. 

They’d gone there one night on a whim, having spent the evening walking around central London, laughing and chatting and doing a spot of people watching. They decided to go on the Eye as Villanelle had never been on it and night before, and luckily for them the lateness meant there was no one else in their pod. When it came time for the picture, Villanelle had posed with her arms outstretched, one leg up with her boot pressed into the glass, trying to take up as much room as possible. Eve is stood beside her, laughing with her head thrown back, hair flying as the camera snapped. 

Eve didn’t realise Villanelle had bought the souvenir photos. She’s gone to the toilet as soon as they’d got off, blaming Villanelle for making her laugh until she almost peed herself, leaving Villanelle to wait at the foot of the wheel. 

Villanelle doesn’t even look particularly glamorous in the photo, smile a little manic and hair wet from rain, and with a warm flutter in her chest Eve thinks that maybe the reason Villanelle bought the photo was because of how happy Eve looks in it. How happy Eve looks because of Villanelle. 

Eve clears her throat and shoves the key into the lock, twisting it open and pushing the door wide. 

“Okay,” Eve says briskly, not making eye contact with Villanelle. “Can you take it from here?”

“Whatever.” Villanelle mumbles. 

Eve can’t deal with this right now, can’t deal with an upset Villanelle straight after she’d made some seriously fair points about Eve’s refusal to let Villanelle have a part in talking about this mess. It makes her feel guilty, makes her stomach hurt. 

“Eve,” Villanelle slurs, voice soft now. Eve finally looks at her and catches shining hazel eyes. “You are maybe my favourite person in the world.” Eve’s breath catches in her throat. “But I think that maybe, maybe you are the most selfish, too.”

God, Eve wants to argue that. Wants to fight against it and accuse Villanelle of being wrong, ask her how dare she say something like that after all she’s done. 

But after tonight, after just a few drunken but very clever statements, Eve thinks that maybe Villanelle is right. In denying the blonde a chance to say anything, literally anything in her own defence, is Eve’s hurt just based on assumption? What if there  _ was _ more to it, and Eve doesn’t know because she’s selfish and stubborn in not letting Villanelle say her piece?

She’s too tired for this. 

Villanelle has gone paler in the last minute, and her forehead is shiny. 

“Are you okay getting yourself upstairs?”

Villanelle shakes her head sadly then drops it to stare at the ground. 

“Yes.” She mutters. 

“Okay, in you go then.”

Villanelle stumbles through the door, then turns to face Eve, face paler still. 

“Eve?”

“What is it, Vil?”

“I-”

Villanelle’s eyes widen. 

She goes green. 

Eve hops back as Villanelle throws up on the floor of the flower shop. She hesitates for a half a second before rushing in, slamming the door shut with her hip and stepping around the growing puddle to lean down over Villanelle. 

“It’s okay,” she says softly, smoothing Villanelle’s hair and holding it out of her face, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Villanelle gasps before another wave hits her. 

Eve wrinkles her nose and grimaces at the vomit on the floor, but puts her free hand on Villanelle’s back and rubs small circles. 

“Just… just let it out. Focus on that for now.”

Villanelle heaves again and sinks to her knees. Eve bends with her and eventually crouches to keep Villanelle’s tangled hair gently fisted in her hand. 

Eventually the heaving subsides, and Eve waits until the gasping and gagging has faded, leading onto Villanelle breathing deeply. 

“Feel better?” Eve murmurs quietly, still rubbing her back. 

“No.” Villanelle croaks. “That is going to be a bitch to clean up with a hangover.”

And Eve laughs. She doesn’t want to, god she just wants to scream and walk out and not look back, get herself lost again in the anger and hurt, but she laughs. 

“Will you let me help you upstairs?”

Villanelle nods weakly and staggers to her feet. 

“Teeth.” Villanelle mumbles roughly. Eve guides her to the bathroom, Villanelle’s movements even more sluggish now, and helps her sit on the toilet lid. She grabs the toothbrush and toothpaste and squeezes a blob onto it before handing it to Villanelle. 

“I’m going to go get you some water,” she tells her, “stay put.”

Eve goes into the kitchen and opens Villanelle’s cupboard, pulling out a pint glass and filling it with cold water before heading back into the bathroom. Villanelle has her forehead pressed against the tiled wall next to the toilet, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. 

“You done?” 

Villanelle nods, toothbrush waggling, then pulls it out of her mouth and clumsily drops it into the sink. Eve hands her the water and she gulps it down, droplets running down her chin. Eve tries not to smile. 

Villanelle gasps as she finishes, handing the glass back to Eve carefully before standing and leaning heavily over the sink. She splashes her face with water and then grabs a bottle and some cotton pads. 

“What are you doing?”

“Makeup off.” Villanelle mumbles. 

So Eve stands and watches as Villanelle wipes at her face with the dampened cotton, removing her mascara and blusher and then dropping the pad into the sink. 

“Okay,” she says with a hiccup, “m’done.”

Eve helps Villanelle up the stairs and into her room with a lot of effort on her part, the blonde now half asleep after draining her energy along with her stomach. Eve grimaces at the thought of the puddle of vomit downstairs that she’ll have to walk by to leave. 

She sits Villanelle down on the edge of the bed and pulls a pair of fresh shorts and a tee from her drawers, knowing that Villanelle might feel a little better in clean clothes. She hands the bundle to Villanelle then takes a step back. 

“I’m going to go.” Eve says, keeping her gaze as level as she can, not wanting to give away any of the emotions fighting inside of her. 

“You are still not going to let me talk?” Villanelle asks weakly, staring at Eve with her bloodshot eyes. “Still?”

“No,” Eve says bluntly, looking away from the blonde, “no, I’m not. I don’t… we cannot do this now. I’m not going to stand here and listen to your excuses while you’re hammered, it’s just… I’m not doing it.”

“And how do you know they are ‘excuses’?” Villanelle mutters. It’s bordering on condescending, and it gives Eve the spark she’s been looking for tonight to light the huge pile of angry, miserable gunpowder inside of her. 

“I don’t know!” She shouts, and Villanelle flinches and frowns. “I don’t fucking know, but I  _ do _ know that whatever you have to say won’t change anything. I feel the way I feel, okay? I’ve made my decision, and we’re not doing this anymore, we can’t build a relationship on a foundation of lies and embarrassment, it’s not healthy!”

“Lies and embarrassment.” Villanelle chuckles softly, staring at her own fingers that twist together on her lap. “Okay Eve. Okay. If you do not want to hear what I have to say, then I will stop. I will not try anymore.”

There’s silence, broken only by the distant sound of cars and Eve’s heavy breathing. Villanelle looks up at her, and Eve feels cold at the blank stare she’s given. 

“What?” Villanelle asks. “What do you want from me? Why are you still here? You do not care enough to listen to my feelings or let me talk about us, so why are you here?”

Eve feels her shackles go up at the accusation. 

“I do ca-”

“No,” Villanelle snaps, “stop. You do not care. If you did, this would not be happening right now, you would be letting me have my say. You know a difference between us that I have realised?”

Villanelle seems to take Eve’s nervous silence as an answer. 

“I will tell you. I have been trying to respect your feelings since you left me, but do you know what you have done? Ignored mine. Dismissed them. Made this entirely about you. An Eve pity party.” Villanelle sighs, a sad and tired sound that just adds to the guilt in Eve’s gut. “I love you, Eve. Did you notice that through all the balloons and paper streamers?”

Eve’s breath catches. She feels her heart pounding in her throat, blocking her airwaves, choking her. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. 

“Just go.” Villanelle mumbles, looking away from Eve to the window next to her. “Thank you for helping me home, but please go.”

Eve doesn’t know what to do. 

Villanelle is right. 

And Villanelle loves Eve. 

Just the thought sets off another firework in her chest. 

But now she thinks about it, thinks back on their time together, yeah; Villanelle is caring and attentive and puts Eve…

Puts Eve first. Always. 

_ Fuck _ . She has to get out. It’s too much, this is too much, her brain and her heart are just putting out static at this point and she can’t think, she just needs some space to  _ think _ . 

Yet another Eve pity party. Villanelle is right. 

She turns to leave. Villanelle’s little bin is sat next to her drawers and without really thinking Eve picks it up and places it next to the bed by Villanelle’s feet, and then she’s out the door. 

Down the stairs. 

Through the kitchen. 

She almost steps in the puddle of sick. 

She could just step over it. Walk around it. Leave and not turn back, leave and go home and go to bed. Leave it for Villanelle to deal with. 

Instead, she turns back into Villanelle’s kitchen. She grabs the mop and bucket she knows the blonde keeps in the cupboard under the stairs, fills it with soap and water, and carries it through. 

Eve starts mopping.

She doesn’t stop until the floor is spotlessly clean. 

It’s only when she’s draining the dirty water outside so that Villanelle doesn’t wake up to a bucket of stinking suds that it hits her, with all the force of a speeding fucking train coming out of nowhere. 

Eve loves Villanelle, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!
> 
> Just a lil reminder that I’m @fixyfics on twitter if you wanna chat/see occasional spoilers and typos


	23. 54 Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s gonna be okay, folks!

There’s that blissful few seconds when you wake up and the world is right. You feel nothing but the leftover peace of sleep, a calm wash of contentedness.

And then thoughts start to take form and your body comes to life. You become aware of any aches and pains, and memories start to solidify. 

And then you’re awake. 

The first thing Villanelle does once those magical moments are over is recognise the turning of her stomach. The second thing she does is lean over the bed and throw up into the bin beside her. 

It is a great start to the day. 

Once she’s finished heaving she groans and fumbles for the water on her bedside table. She doesn’t know how the pint glass of water got there but she’s grateful. 

She lies back down gingerly, her head spinning until it’s back on the pillow. She takes a deep breath, and after a moment allows herself to think. 

Yesterday was a long day. She runs through it, feeling each emotion as it comes. The joy at seeing Eve, the fear at seeing Eve react to Amber, the anger that it had all fallen apart again. The hope once she’d picked herself back up, the determination while talking to Elena, the excitement at breaking and entering, the rage at Aaron’s slur, the satisfaction of punching him. The regret of punching him, not because of  _ him _ but because her chance of getting the flash sheet was gone the second her fist flew. 

And along with that chance went her last chance with Eve. 

Villanelle closes her eyes. 

There’s a light thump on the bed and then D’yavol is there, sniffing at her face. She turns it to the side, coming face to face with her little black nose and wide yellow eyes. 

“It is over, Dee Dee.” She whispers to the cat, who tilts her head curiously. “Eve and I are done. And do you know what? I am mad at her.”

It’s only as she says it does Villanelle realise it’s true. The events of last night come back to her, the shots and the strong drinks, her limit well and truly stepped over until she couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t think about Eve. 

But then somehow she’d wound up at Konstantin’s bar and he’d been there, and he’d sat her down with water and although still too drunk to see it felt like her brain had started to clear somewhat. 

And then Eve had turned up, and her brain got clouded again. 

They’d spoken a bit, and Villanelle can’t fully remember what was said, but she does remember telling Eve that she was selfish. That she was selfish for not letting Villanelle have her chance at talking, selfish for disregarding Villanelle’s feelings and focusing entirely on her own, acting off her own emotions and not caring to let Villanelle express her own.

Villanelle likes the taste of anger on her tongue. It’s much nicer than the vodka flavoured bile still lingering there. 

She lets it simmer. She goes over the things she’d said to Eve and how Eve had reacted. She’d clearly struck a nerve, Eve getting flustered and shouty at points, pensive and almost guilty looking at others. These Villanelle remembers with perfect clarity. It’s like the rest of the night blurs away to leave Eve’s face in high definition. 

Villanelle was right, she knows she is. And if Eve doesn’t care about her enough to let her say even a single word, then fine. So be it. 

Villanelle just wishes she could patch the aching crack in her heart with that anger, could smother the longing and desperation in her chest with it. 

But no. The anger is just a sideshow to the heartbreaking main event. 

——

She sleeps another hour with D’yavol curled above her head on the pillow. She never opens the shop late, never lets a thing like a hangover stop her from working, but after she throws up a second time, scaring D’yavol into scratching her neck, she decides that more sleep is for the best. 

After a long shower and a longer pampering session, Villanelle stands in her shop smelling of orange blossom and strong coffee, serving customers with a forced smile. 

It’s been a busy morning, with bunches of flowers and potted plants being bought left and right, and it’s enough to half-distract her from the nausea of the hangover and the ache in her chest for a few hours. 

It’s when she’s cleaning up after an over-zealous child who attempted to help her mum by dragging the plant mum wanted off the shelf, that the bell above the door tinkles again. 

She turns, and-

“Oh god,” Villanelle groans, getting to her feet immediately and brushing her dirty hands on her apron. “Look, I said I was sorry-”

“And I said you don’t need to be.”

Amber stands there, arms full of fancy paper shopping bags, both eyebrows raised at Villanelle. 

“I punched your brother in the face.” Villanelle says slowly, suspiciously. “I broke his nose. You  _ should _ want me to apologise.”

“I mean yeah, probs.” Amber shrugs, stepping further into the room and dumping her bags on the counter. “But, he’s a dick, so...”

Villanelle stares at Amber in confusion, then shakes her head. 

“Okay, well, if you do not mind that I hit him, then… good. Because he  _ is _ a dick.” 

Amber laughs and nods, leaning her elbows on the counter and propping her chin up as Villanelle walks around it, peering into the shopping bags. 

“I’ve got something for you.”

Amber says it slyly, and when Villanelle looks at her she’s got a smirk playing on her lips. 

“Oh?” Villanelle asks, eyeing her curiously. “Did you buy me something?”

“Nope,” Amber shakes her head, “but you’re gonna love it.”

“Okay… what is it?”

“I’m like, seriously going to be your new best friend.”

“Okay,” Villanelle laughs exasperatedly, “Amber, just tell me.”

In lieu of answering her, Amber reaches into a bag that she’s left at her feet. Villanelle watches curiously as Amber brings up a large card envelope. She hands it over the counter to Villanelle. 

“Um…”

“Open it!”

Villanelle smiles suspiciously at Amber as she lifts the flap of the envelope, then focuses her attention on the white paper inside. 

She nearly drops it as she slides it out. 

“How-”

“It was the only thing out of place when I snooped around after he left for the hospital.” Amber shrugged. “Figured you must’ve really wanted it if you were willing to steal it.”

Villanelle is holding the signed Sailor Jerry tattoo flash sheet in her hands. It’s real, it’s here, and her heart soars before Villanelle can tell it not to. 

“Amber, I really do not know what to say.”

“Don’t worry about,” Amber says flippantly with a wave of her hand, “he has like a billion things in that room that he never even looks at, so I doubt he’ll notice this one missing.”

“You do not know how much this means to me.” Villanelle says seriously. “Let me give you something in return! You want more flowers? Some plants?”

“Come and play Mario Kart again with me Friday and we’re even. I’ll even make sure my brother isn’t home.”

Villanelle dashes around the counter and pulls Amber into a tight hug, surprising even herself as she holds the woman close. 

“Thank you.” She mumbles into wavy blonde hair. 

“No probs, bestie,” Amber chuckles, hugging Villanelle back, “but I do need to go now, I have lunch reservations.”

“Oh, okay.” Villanelle says, letting go and stepping back as Amber grabs her bags and heads for the door. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Oh my god, I will, the place I’m going to is to die for.” Amber groans. She’s almost out of the door when she turns back. “I’m assuming you’re giving that to Eve?”

“Uh,” Villanelle gapes, “why would you think that?”

“No reason,” Amber says with a smirk. “Hope she likes it. Bye!”

And then she’s gone, phone immediately out and by her ear as she walks past the window. 

Villanelle carefully picks up the tattoo sheet and looks it over. It’s definitely real, pen and pencil strokes clearly pressed into the paper. She needs to give it to Eve right away. 

But then that taste of anger is back. 

Why should she? Why should she hand this over to Eve when all Eve has done is reject her and her feelings? 

But Eve is just trying to protect herself, a little voice in Villanelle’s head reasons, she’s been hurt badly before and is trying to stop it from happening again. 

But what about me? The other voice argues. I am hurt too, Eve is treating me like I feel nothing, that my feelings do not matter. She is treating me like she does not care about me at all. 

But is she? That first voice pipes up. Would someone that doesn’t care about you react _this_ _much_? Would someone that doesn’t care about you act like you’ve torn their life apart? Would they act like even _seeing_ you is destroying them? That seems like a lot of care, if you ask me. 

“I  _ didn’t _ ask you.” Villanelle says out loud to the empty room. Okay, she needs more sleep, this hangover is not helping anything. 

Villanelle slips the tattoo sheet back inside the envelope and stares at it. 

She grabs a pen and writes ‘Eve’ across the envelope in her cursive scrawl, then sighs. 

It doesn’t matter how angry she is. 

Her heart belongs to Eve, and so does the tattoo sheet. 

Villanelle cringes at the romcom-esque wording of her thoughts, but whatever, they’re true. With a deep breath, Villanelle leaves her shop and is outside Eve’s door in seconds. 

She can hear buzzing from inside and assumes no one has noticed her through the glass. Her heart hammers against her rib cage as she peers in, seeing that everyone is working. Great. 

Well, Villanelle always has loved an audience. 

She swings the door open hard. 

Dramatic flair is hard to drop after years of making it a habit. 

She keeps her gaze steely as she surveys the room. It goes quiet. Only Kenny’s gun keeps buzzing, the young guy glancing warily at Villanelle and then away again when she makes eye contact. 

She looks over to Elena, who has her eyes wide in surprise, gun frozen over a guy’s back. When she fixes her gaze on Hugo, he seems to shrink, then he drops behind the desk and Villanelle hears the shuffling of paper and piles being tidied. 

Last of all, she flicks her gaze over to Eve. 

Eve, who stares at Villanelle in a strange mix of shock and regret, who sits with a pen poised over a notebook, the notebook Villanelle got her. Villanelle pushes the pang of emotion away. 

Villanelle strides across the room, and Eve seems frozen. 

She slams the envelope down on her workstation. The sound reverberates across the room, and even Kenny has stopped tattooing now, judging by the tense silence. 

She watches as Eve’s eyes flick down to the envelope, to the swirled lettering of her name, then back up at Villanelle. There’s confusion in those conflicted brown eyes, and hurt, and even some kind of hopefulness, but Villanelle doesn’t want to see them right now. 

She leaves one last lingering look at Eve, trying to convey every angry feeling, every desperate feeling, every wanting feeling through her eyes, before she turns and leaves. 

No voice follows her as she goes, no scraping of a stool as someone stands to stop her. There’s nothing. Her heart hurts. 

Villanelle doesn’t look back. 

——

It’s 54 hours before she hears from Eve. Villanelle stopped counting at 24.

——

For 24 hours, Villanelle had been distracted. Every minute was spent half thinking about her immediate actions like serving customers and checking emails and making green tea, and half thinking about Eve. 

Did Eve open the envelope? Did she see the sheet? 

But 24 hours passed and Eve made no contact, so either she didn’t bother looking at what Villanelle tried so hard to get, or she looked and didn’t care. 

Either way, it was the final nail in the coffin. 

After 24 hours, Villanelle stopped counting. 

After 48 hours, Villanelle banned Eve from her mind. 

After 53 hours, Villanelle realised something was wrong. Something was missing. 

Literally, something was  _ missing _ . 

“D’yavol?” 

Villanelle is staring down at the little black ceramic food bowl she’d bought the cat, taking in the chunks of meaty cat food sat there. 

The food hasn’t been touched since Villanelle filled it this morning. 

Come to think of it, Villanelle didn’t see D’yavol last night either. She usually sleeps on Villanelle’s bed, but Villanelle just assumed the cat had decided to sleep in her own bed for once, in the kitchen below the radiator. 

She feels worry start to swirl in her stomach. 

“D’yavol?” She calls again, looking around herself. “Come here little kotinka.”

She waits, straining her ears for the usual clattering of paws and claws on hardwood, but she hears nothing. Not a squeak or a mew. 

“Where are you?” Villanelle mumbles under her breath. It’s dark outside, just gone 6pm, and despite her wild nature D’yavol has actually come to prefer being inside once night falls. 

Villanelle walks through into the shop, lights off and locked up for the day, and scours the shelves for a hidden cat blending in with the shadows, but D’yavol isn’t there. 

Villanelle turns back into the kitchen and, with the worry spinning faster, starts checking her cupboards. She can feel panic starting to rise but she pushes it down, not letting it get the better of her. D’yavol is just a cat. Just a cat. 

Villanelle pulls open the cupboard where she keeps her cleaning supplies and her eyes fall on the mop, and with an unwelcome pang she notes that it’s been moved recently. A memory hits her of that mess of a night a few days ago, of throwing up on her shop floor. Eve must’ve mopped it up after putting her to bed. But why?

She closes the cupboard. 

She climbs the stairs two at a time and starts searching through the upstairs rooms, checking under cupboards and in baskets. 

“I should have killed you while I had the chance, D’yavol.” She mutters, crawling under her bed and feeling around. “The rabbits never caused me this much trouble, that’s for sure. You know why? Because they were dead.”

Villanelle stands up and puts a hand on her hip, the other on her forehead. She can’t push the panic away now, it’s there and it’s bringing the worry in her stomach to a boil. Biting on her thumb nail, she tries to decide what to do. 

She runs downstairs and slips on her coat and shoes, then heads into the back garden. 

“D’yavol?” She calls loudly into the darkness. “Come here, kisinka!” 

She waits for the rustle of leaves as D’yavol comes bounding out of a bush, or her hungry meow after not eating this morning, but she’s met with only silence. 

Villanelle stays out for a few minutes more, calling and calling, her voice getting desperate, but the black cat doesn’t appear. 

She feels sick. 

The chilling bite in the air nips at her cheeks as she tries to breathe. Of all the things, of all the fucking things to happen to really just finish off this nightmarish week, Villanelle’s cat is missing. 

This is why pets are a bad idea, Villanelle thinks as she tries not to cry. Emotional attachments to humans are hard enough, but throw in an attachment to an animal and you’ve got yourself devastation waiting to happen. 

She takes a deep breath. She needs to find D’yavol. She pulls her phone from her pocket. 

Villanelle: Are you at work still? Thursday evening shift right? 

The reply doesn’t take long. 

_ Elena: yeah… but Eve is here, I should warn you. And the boys too _

_ Elena: you okay?  _

Villanelle shuts off her phone and makes her way to Original Sin. 

She doesn’t walk past the long window. Instead, she stays at the end of it, peeking around the corner into the warmly lit space. Elena’s corner is made up partly of this windowed wall, and Villanelle taps on the glass lightly to get her attention. 

Elena looks up from her drawing and catches Villanelle’s gaze. She tilts her head and looks confused, even more so when Villanelle gestures at her to come outside with a flick of her hand. 

She watches as Elena stands up and walks past the window. 

“Babe, you alright?” Elena asks her as she steps outside, narrowing her eyes in confusion when Villanelle beckons her closer. “You’re being weird.”

“I don’t want Eve to see me outside her studio, I cannot deal with her yelling or even  _ looking _ at me right now.”

Elena seems to notice the panic on her face or maybe the tears swimming in her eyes, because there are suddenly two warm hands on her shoulders. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“D’yavol is missing.”

“Fuck. Are you sure?”

“I can’t find her anywhere,” Villanelle sniffs, and god she really  _ should’ve _ killed the stupid wonderful thing, if it was just going to reduce her to tears in front of people. “Please help me.”

Because course she doesn’t want D’yavol dead, not really. Bitter thoughts of companionship aside, that sneaky little fluff ball had found a place in Villanelle’s heart and she will protect that cat until her last breath. 

“Of course,” Elena says, “here, let me ask the guys to help, okay? We’ll find her.” 

Villanelle nods, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She’d only grabbed a thin jacket and flung it over a t-shirt and joggers and she’s aware that it’s freezing out, but the panic seems to be keeping her warm enough. 

She watches as Elena slips back inside and speaks to Kenny. The young guy nods, pulling his headphones from around his neck and shoving them into the bag at his feet. Villanelle leans a little to watch Elena approach Hugo, talking to him, and as Hugo nods and says something back, Villanelle sees Elena get distracted by something over her shoulder. 

She looks steady, and then she looks annoyed, and then she’s lifting her arms up and mouthing fast words. 

Villanelle leans more and watches as Eve comes into view, arms folded and an anxious look on her face. She says something back to Elena who just shakes her head before turning her back on Eve, pointing the guys to the door. 

Villanelle is still watching Eve when Eve turns to look straight at her. The look she gives is wary, conflicted, and Villanelle doesn’t bother covering the cool hurt in her own before turning on the spot to stare at the others instead. 

“Okay!” Hugo claps his hands together, getting everyone’s attention. “Let’s go get that pussy!”

Next time she gets the urge to kill a pet, Villanelle decides she will just kill Hugo instead. 

—— 

“Found anything?” 

Elena jogs down the pavement through the nearby park to Villanelle who has just entered at a nearby gate. 

“No,” Villanelle mumbles, “nothing. Fuck, I’m never going to find her am I?”

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” Elena soothes, putting an arm around Villanelle’s shoulders, “we’ll keep looking.”

“I can’t lose her, Elena.” Villanelle whispers, pressing the heels of her palms hard into her eyes. “I’ve already lost Eve. I can’t lose D’yavol too, I can’t.”

“Babe, come on, we’ve got this.” Elena says firmly, removing her arm and taking Villanelle’s face in her hands, forcing the blonde to look at her. “The boys are combing the nearby streets, we’ve got the parks and gardens, we’ll find her, okay?”

Villanelle nods, but it feels empty. She has spent so long trying to cling onto shreds of hope this past week only for them to slip from her grasp. She isn’t sure she has any hope left. 

Elena tugs on her hand and pulls her back onto the street as Villanelle feels her phone buzz in her pocket. 

She stops walking abruptly. 

It’s Eve. 

_ Eve: Let me help.  _

Villanelle stares down at the message, heart twisting in an argument between elation and sadness, and before she can think of a reply another message arrives. 

_ Eve: Have you knocked on doors and checked the neighbours’ sheds yet? _

Her fingers shake as she types, lungs and chest tight. 

Villanelle: Not yet. 

_ Eve: Then I’ll do that now. I’ll text you if I find her. x _

Villanelle lets out a breath. 

Maybe she does have one more shred of hope left after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had the crappiest work day, so I hope that if you’ve also had a bad day that this update maybe cheers you up a little xoxo


	24. Actual Idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, you can stop hating Eve and I now, although why you ever hated Eve is beyond me. Please try to remember that from Eve’s POV, this is just her past relationship trauma all over again. She’s being selfish, yeah, but she’s not being a bitch for no reason.  
>  Enjoy!

“What’s happening? Where are you going?”

“D’yavol is missing, we’re going to go help find her.”

“I… no, I can’t.”

Elena turns fully to stare at Eve. 

“You’re joking, right? Villanelle’s cat is  _ missing _ , Eve, did you not hear me?” 

“I heard you,” Eve fights to maintain her blank tone, but she knows nerves are creeping into it, “and I’m saying I can’t.”

Kenny and Hugo are silent as Elena lets out a low laugh. 

“Wow, Eve.” She says with narrowed eyes. “Are you seriously saying that you won’t help our friend look for her pet because you’re still convinced she’s the devil? You’ve barely let her say one word to you.”

And that’s not why Eve can’t go, it’s not because she doesn’t want to, it’s because she  _ can’t _ , she doesn’t know how to apologise yet, how to talk to Villanelle yet, she’s not had enough  _ time _ to work out how to fix this. 

“No, it’s not-”

“Enough playing the victim, Eve. It’s getting selfish.” 

Elena turns to the guys and points at the door. 

“Lads, let’s go find that cat.”

They leave Eve alone in the studio with nothing but choking thoughts and bad drawings to keep her company. 

Elena is right, just like Villanelle was right. But she already knew that. 

Two days ago Villanelle stormed in with all the hurt and pain of a tornado, slamming down an envelope and giving Eve this look that seemed to scream ‘this isn’t all about you’, before leaving as quickly as she arrived. 

No one had said anything for a minute after, all just silently staring at Eve until she picked up the envelope and walked out.

In the safety of her kitchen she allowed her shaking hands to slide the sheet of white paper from the envelope, hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp as she sees what’s in her hands. 

Villanelle had somehow gotten her a signed Sailor Jerry tattoo flash sheet, complete with signature. The paper smelled old and vintage, and Eve traced a fingertip over the bold lines on the page. 

She didn’t bother blinking away the tears that gathered as she stared at the drawings for god knows how long. Instead she let them fall, though was careful to not let them hit the art in her hands. 

How much money had Villanelle spent? What lengths did she go to?

She suddenly remembered the phone call from Konstantin. 

_ ‘...she broke into someone’s house, punched them in the face…’ _

Christ, is this what she was doing? Was Eve holding a piece of stolen art? 

There was a tiny spark of something inside her that hopes it was. 

And then, then Eve had spent two days trying to work out what to do next. 

She went back over the week’s events what felt like a billion times, and fuck, she came to the same conclusion every time. Villanelle was right. An Eve pity party. 

Eve is still set in her belief that she has the right to feel however she feels. She’d felt like she was drowning, and getting away from Villanelle was the only way to save herself. She was upset and felt trapped, and all of those feelings of being ‘the lesser option’ during her marriage had come rising up in her like bile. 

So yeah, Eve was allowed to be upset. 

But in hindsight, and isn’t hindsight such a wonderful fucking dickhead of a thing, in hindsight she should have let Villanelle talk. She should have let her explain. What good it would have done Eve still doesn’t know, but Villanelle has the right to feel just like Eve has the right. 

Eve had taken the right away from Villanelle. Dismissed her emotions. Classes them as invalid. 

But then the Amber thing happened, just as Eve was realising that she should let Villanelle have her say. 

That situation had  _ stung _ . To hear those words come from this young, attractive woman, aimed at Villanelle who was supposedly torn up by their separation? It crushed her. 

Eve was already full of embers, and Amber was just dry wood. The fire had still been burning so it didn’t take long for Eve to roar back to life. And roar she did. 

She tries to forget the look on Villanelle’s face when she’d just about screamed at her in the street. 

And fuck, again, hindsight comes into play. If Eve hadn’t been stoking the embers, if Eve had been neutral, would she have burst into flames like that? Or would she have given Villanelle the chance to explain. 

Eve knows that it’s the latter. 

She wishes she’d known it then. 

Next was the drunken chatter. Even with Villanelle drunk out of her mind, she was still so piercingly accurate. She’d taken all of the doubts Eve had been pushing to the back of her mind and just laid them out for her, showing Eve that she saw them too. 

And since then, Eve has thought of nothing else. She’s been playing the victim, when really there has been two victims in this clusterfuck, and all victims deserve a chance to tell their story. 

Villanelle had let Eve tell her story and had given her space on top of that, despite clearly having so much to say, and Eve just took it and gave nothing in return. 

Her feelings are valid. 

But so are Villanelle’s. 

The early afternoon when Villanelle has stormed in with the print in her hands, Eve was tired. She’d barely slept after making sure Villanelle was safe in bed, tossing and turning as she thought over everything that had been said, so when the woman herself had walked in, Eve was at a loss. 

She knew she wanted to say something to her, to suggest they meet, even if it’s just in her kitchen. She wanted to tell Villanelle that she could have her chance, that Eve wouldn’t greedily keep hold of it anymore. 

But the look on Villanelle’s face, the sheer desperation and distress in it, had frozen Eve. She’d never seen her look that way, and it was horrible. And it was Eve’s fault.

Someone who didn’t care would never fight that hard to be heard, right? 

The print destroyed any last remaining resentment inside of Eve, but she had no idea what to do. Was it too late to save everything? The look in Villanelle’s eyes seemed to say it was. 

She thought about it for two days, finally deciding that she would go and see Villanelle tonight. 

And now this has happened. 

So Eve sits alone with her choking thoughts and her bad drawings, and realises that time has run out for her. Now it’s Eve’s turn, Eve’s one last chance, and she absolutely cannot fuck it up. 

Eve loves Villanelle. 

Maybe that’s all she needs to start making this right. 

——

Eve makes herself a coffee and closes down the studio, switching off everyone’s stations as she sips the strong black liquid. She needs caffeine if she’s going cat searching in the dark. 

It only takes two pep talks in the mirror before Eve is ready. 

Eve: Let me help. 

Eve: Have you knocked on doors and checked the neighbours’ sheds yet?

She waits for a reply,  _ hopes _ for a reply. 

_ Villanelle: Not yet.  _

Eve sighs with relief and slumps down onto a dining chair. 

Eve: Then I’ll do that now. I’ll text you if I find her. x

She deliberates on whether or not to send the kiss, but then decides that honesty is the best policy from here on out, no walls or masks or aggressive shouting to hide behind. The pity party is officially over. 

Eve pulls on her jacket and scarf and heads into the night, turning to get to the residential street behind their row of shop-house-combos. 

For 40 minutes Eve knocks on doors, some people grumpy but obliging and checking their sheds, others willing to check straight with a worried face and hopeful words, but three streets later and she hasn’t found D’yavol. 

Eve checks bushes and trees as she walks, but it’s so dark out that she wouldn’t be able to spot a white cat, let alone one the colour of the shadows. 

She decides to head back and check her own house, just in case D’yavol had somehow snuck her way into Eve’s studio without anyone noticing. 

She’s about to unlock the door when there’s the sound of another door opening near to her. Her chest tightens. 

“Oh. Eve.”

Eve tries to exhale as calmly as she can as she turns to face Villanelle. 

“Hey, Vil.”

Silence follows, and it claws at Eve like a feverish sweat, clinging and close, but isn’t this what she was waiting for? A chance to give  _ Villanelle _ the chance? 

She takes a few steps towards Villanelle, and as she gets closer she sees the light of the street lamp glitter off tear tracked cheeks. Eve reaches a hand out to touch Villanelle’s arm comfortingly. 

“Hey, don’t worry, we’ll find-”

Her hand is sharply shrugged away, and Villanelle takes a step back, looking at the pavement beneath them, the walls of the buildings, the stars above them, anywhere but at Eve. 

Eve knows she deserves it. She fists her hand and drops it by her side. 

She’s out of time. 

Now or never. 

“You were right.”

Eve sees Villanelle freeze at her words, eyes fixed on her, undoubtedly, expensive sneakers. She says nothing, and Eve takes it as a sign to keep going. 

“You  _ are _ right. About- everything you said the other night was true. I’ve been… I’ve been selfish. I was too wound up in how upset I was to even think about how you were.”

Villanelle still says nothing, and Eve takes a slow step forwards, carefully, like Villanelle is a gentle animal she’s trying not to startle. 

“I should’ve let you talk, Villanelle. I should’ve given you your time, but I didn’t. I was just so… trapped? Trapped in heartbreak, or something. But that isn’t an excuse. There are two of us in this, and you deserved to have your chance to talk like I did. Still do deserve it. I’m sorry.”

And Villanelle looks up now, eyes hard but shiny with unshed tears. 

“Um,” Eve falters, twisting her fingers together nervously but keeping her eyes trained on Villanelle’s, “so, if you’d like to, you can talk. I’ll listen to everything you have to say.”

Villanelle’s expression doesn’t change. 

“Why should I?” She says coldly. “It won’t change anything, just like you said.”

“Forget what I said.” Eve says quietly. “I was scared, and upset, and said anything I could to make me think I still had some control. Everything you said that night made sense. It scared me.”

“It won’t change anything.” Villanelle repeats, and her tone isn’t as cold as before, but muddied with emotion instead. 

“But maybe it will.”

Villanelle’s frown goes from angry to confused. 

“What?” 

“That night,” Eve starts, forcing her hands to still and her breathing to come steadier, “you told me you love me.”

Villanelle says nothing but her body tenses, her eyes dart to the side, and she looks like she’s considering just running away. Eve pushes on. 

“Was that… were you serious?”

Her question seems to prick at Villanelle’s tense form, which immediately sags into one of tiredness. 

“That would be a shitty thing to joke about, don’t you think?” Villanelle grumbles, and Eve smiles a little. 

Now or never. 

“Then I guess my knock knock joke about how I love you too would fall flat, huh.”

There. 

Eve’s own personal last chance. 

Villanelle says nothing, continues to stare out at the road until she’s not anymore, she’s staring at Eve, and her eyes are wide and nervous, the hostility from before completely gone. 

“What?”

“Yeah.” Eve nods, still smiling a little. “I’m in love with you. And I’m terrified.”

“Why are you terrified?” Villanelle’s voice is hushed as she steps closer to Eve, eyes imploring. 

“Because I’ve never felt like this before, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I do know that I want to find out. If you… if you still want to find out, too.”

Villanelle studies Eve, eyes still searching. She worries her lip between her teeth. 

“Do you want to know what happened five years ago?”

Eve shakes her head. 

“I don’t care anymore,” she says, “I honestly don’t. I thought it was everything, but then I picked you up from the bar and helped you home and I suddenly realised that  _ you _ were everything. I laid awake all night going over and over what you said and how right you were, and then you brought in the print, the amazing print and  _ god, _ love was just… all I could think about. That and the weird colour of your vomit.”

Villanelle’s eyes had been growing softer and warmer as Eve spoke, but they narrowed when she scrunched up her nose at the end. 

“Now is not the time to bring that up.”

“Sorry, I thought we were still doing the joke bit.” Eve teases with faux confusion. 

And Villanelle smiles. It’s the first genuine smile Eve has seen on Villanelle’s face in days, a week, and it sends a warmth spreading through Eve’s chest. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” Eve asks, curious, taking another step to close more distance. 

“Love me?”

“Yes,” Eve replies immediately, face sincere, “I think I have for a long time. I just didn’t see it until you called me your girlfriend, and then it felt like I was being crushed by it. I didn’t call it love, I didn’t recognise it as that because this was different, more intense. I was scared of it and what it meant, so instead of accepting it and understanding it, I ran from it. I was so scared I didn’t stop to think how you might be feeling from me literally running from us.”

She doesn’t know when or by who, but she and Villanelle are only a foot apart. It’s close enough for Eve to see the glittering hazel she’d missed so badly, to see the drying tear tracks running down Villanelle’s slightly flushed cheeks. 

“I want to say something.” Villanelle says quietly, watching Eve carefully. 

“Go ahead.” Eve encourages with a small smile. 

“I did not stand you up.”

Eve falters a moment, one corner of her smile dropping.

“Okay…” Eve says slowly, unsure. 

“Eve, did you go to Luigi’s that night?”

“You know I did.” Eve mumbles, not particularly wanting to get into the exact details of the night in question. 

“No, I don’t,” Villanelle says, much to Eve’s confusion, “because I went to The Spaghetti Bowl.”

Neither of them speak. They stand silently, a foot apart, Villanelle’s hair lifting in the wintry breeze. Eve clears her throat. 

“We went to different restaurants?”

“Yes.”

“We went to different restaurants.”

“Yes.”

_ Jesus Christ.  _

“Oh my god.” Eve mumbles, looking at the pavement without seeing, then looking up into Villanelle’s anxious face. “Oh my  _ god _ .”

Villanelle purses her lips awkwardly and nods. Eve’s mind is reeling. 

“Oh my god, I am _so_ _sorry_.” 

Villanelle laughs a little at this, and nods again. 

“Mm.” Villanelle hums. “I mean, I did try to tell you…”

“Oh my  _ god,  _ fuck _ , _ I am  _ so sorry _ , Jesus I’ve been awful!” 

Villanelle gives a little one-shouldered shrug and smiles at Eve. 

“It is okay,” she says softly, “I forgive you.”

Eve slaps a hand to her forehead and puffs up her cheeks while she thinks, then blows it out harshly and drops her hand. 

“We are actual idiots.”

“‘Fucking morons’, is what Elena called us, I think.” Villanelle says with a crooked smile that Eve has missed so, so much. 

“God. Okay, well, I’m going to kiss you now.”

Villanelle blinks, startled. 

“Wh-what?”

“Vil, this whole thing is because of how dumb we both were. Literally, the whole thing. And then I just topped off that crap cake with a giant selfish cherry and pity party sprinkles.”

Villanelle chuckles at Eve’s description, and it warms her heart. 

“Like… holy shit, Vil. We are… just come here and kiss me, I’m so done wasting time.”

Eve steps into Villanelle’s space and goes to reach up for the blonde’s face, but a hand on her chest stops her. 

“No.”

Eve feels the warmth turn to ice. 

“What?” Eve asks shakily. “I thought… I’m sorry, I thought-”

“Eve, I am joking. Are we not still doing the joke bit?” 

Eve groans at the mischievous grin on Villanelle’s beautiful face. 

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Uh huh.” Villanelle says as the hand against Eve’s chest grips to pull at her jacket. 

And then their lips touch. 

It’s like coming home. 

Eve sighs into it, and it feels like years of tension just slip away. It’s soft and gentle, a sweet reunion in the delicate push and pull of their lips. Eve’s hands continue their journey upwards, one hand cupping Villanelle’s jaw to tilt her head, the other sliding back into silky blonde hair. 

They tilt, and then there’s the press of tongue, and it’s Villanelle’s turn to sigh into the nonexistent space between them. It’s a languid stroke followed by teasing touches, and Eve slides the hand in blonde locks down to the small of Villanelle’s back, bringing her flush against Eve, sharing warmth and a thundering heartbeat. 

And it’s freezing outside, and the wind is sharp, and Villanelle’s cat is still missing, but for this moment here, it’s just them. The two of them in this sweet homecoming. 

Until it isn’t. 

“Hell-oh! Okay!” 

Hugo’s voice cuts through the air and Villanelle and Eve come apart. She’s about to throttle the kid when she hears a squeak come from Villanelle. 

“D’yavol!”

“Yeah, look who I found!”

Eve turns to see Hugo, hair a mess with a leaf sticking out of it, holding a lump of black fur that nuzzles into his neck. 

“Oh my god, where was she?” Villanelle gasps, rushing forwards to scoop the purring black mass from Hugo’s arms. 

“Up a tree a street over.” Hugo says happily, smug smile in place. “I heard her mewing so I climbed up. I think she likes me, you know.”

Villanelle is peppering D’yavol in kisses and muttering to her in Russian, so Eve steps forward and pulls Hugo into a hug that surprises them both. 

“Good job, buddy.” She says as she pulls away, chuckling at the alarmed look on his face. 

“That was weird,” he says warily, “but thanks, boss.”

Villanelle comes closer then, D’yavol still purring happily against her shoulder as she holds her with one arm. With the other she takes Hugo’s shoulder, then kisses him on the cheek. 

“D’yavol and I are both very grateful. Thank you, Hugo.”

Hugo looks stunned. This has been a big evening for him. 

He’s silent for a few seconds, then throws his hands in the air triumphantly. 

“Villanelle kissed me!” He yells, and at that moment Elena and Kenny appear. 

“She what?” Kenny asks, confused. 

“He found D’yavol and Villanelle kissed him on the cheek.” Eve supplies, amused. 

Hugo drops his arms and grins lazily. 

“Yeah, and they were making out when I got here.” He says. “Fun evening, all round.”

“What?!” Elena cries, rushing at the women. “You made up? Oh my god it’s a Christmas miracle!”

“Christmas was weeks ago…”

“Kenny,” Elena says sharply, “do you want  _ me _ to turn up at the wrong restaurant on Saturday?” 

Kenny throws his arms up. 

“A Christmas miracle!” He cheers, and Elena laughs and cheers with him. 

“Okay, this is turning into a bit of a circus,” Eve says loudly, “can you all leave now?”

“Why?” asks Hugo with a smirk. “Got some catching up to do?”

“Oh, we are going to have so much sex.” Villanelle says excitedly, and Eve turns to her with wide eyes at the blunt admission.

“Wow.” Elena says, and Kenny clears his throat awkwardly. Hugo, however, throws his hands back up in the air. 

“To the pub!” He shouts. “I found a cat and got a kiss from the devil herself, drinks are on me!” 

Hugo immediately starts heading in the direction of The Rose and Kenny and Elena follow, Elena throwing a cheerful wave over her shoulder at Eve and Villanelle. 

Eve turns back to Villanelle and finds her already staring at her. 

“So,” Eve says with a smirk, “‘so much sex’, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Murmurs Villanelle, stepping closer to Eve. 

At that moment, the cat in Villanelle’s arms lets out a hungry meow. Villanelle chuckles down at D’yavol.

“Okay, okay, you are hungry, I get it.” She tells the cat, then she looks back at Eve and gestures to the flower shop door with her head. “Shall we?”

And Eve just smiles. 

It’s like coming home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas miracle!!!!
> 
> Next chapter is filthy hahah bye


	25. Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowzers trousers, folks. The end. Enjoy :)
> 
> Ps I hope ur thirstyyyyyy

Villanelle pushes Eve into her closed bedroom door and immediately reattaches their lips. 

“I’ve missed you,” she breathes in between fast paced kisses, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Eve mumbles back, her hands slipping beneath the shoulders of Villanelle’s jacket and pushing the clothing down her arms. 

The kiss is desperate, each push and pull of lips firm and demanding. Villanelle’s heart thuds against her ribs, sending her blood rushing fast and making her almost lightheaded as she keeps Eve pressed against the wood of the door. 

“I want you.” Villanelle murmurs, then gasps as Eve bites down on her lip. 

“Then have me.”

She pulls Eve away from the door by her scarf which Villanelle then unloops and throws across the room, along with Eve’s coat. Eve’s back bounces on the mattress as she drops to it and Villanelle climbs on top, straddling her hips. 

“God.” Eve says while running her hands up and down Villanelle’s thighs over her cotton sweatpants. “Please take these off.”

Villanelle crouches over Eve and manages to drag off the joggers before reaching down to do the same with Eve’s jeans, tugging them down to reveal smooth, olive skin. She kisses Eve’s shin, then above her knee, then skips the black underwear and kisses her hip, smiling into her hip bone when the woman above her groans in frustration. 

She climbs back up to straddle Eve and within seconds they’re kissing again, only pausing to breathe and to pull off Eve’s t-shirt, leaving her in a matching black bra that Villanelle drags her gaze over. 

“I’ve missed you, also.” She mumbles, leaning down to kiss the top of each breast to the sound of Eve laughing breathlessly. 

When she sits up again, Eve is staring at her, biting her lip. 

“You look so fucking good.”

Villanelle smirks and runs a hand through her hair, bucking her hips gently, feeling hot under Eve’s gaze. 

Eve grunts at the gentle rocking and her hands find Villanelle’s hips, squeezing and guiding them into a rhythm. 

“I’ve been so distracted, I’ve barely had a chance to think about how much I missed  _ this _ .” Eve murmurs, eyes fixed on Villanelle’s slowly rocking hips. 

Villanelle chuckles, then leans forward to kiss Eve’s neck. 

“Hmm,” she hums into the soft skin, “I definitely still thought about it.”

“You did?” Eve murmurs around a gasp as Villanelle nips at her pulse point. “What did you think about?”

“Make up sex. Angry sex.” Villanelle replies before kissing her way up to Eve’s jaw, hips still rolling slowly. “And sex we’ve already had. Like the time against your kitchen table.”

Eve moans in recognition and digs her fingers into Villanelle’s hips. 

“And what did you do about it?” 

Villanelle kisses along a sharp jaw until her lips are by Eve’s ear. 

“I touched myself.”

Eve’s moan is high and breathy, and Villanelle grins into thick curly hair before taking Eve’s earlobe between her teeth and tugging.

“You like that? You like the thought of me touching myself while thinking of you bending me over the table?”

Eve nods quickly, her own hips bucking up into Villanelle’s now, her breathing getting faster. Villanelle sits up again and sweeps her hair over one shoulder, studying Eve below her with a smirk. 

“Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes,” Eve replies immediately, eyes dark, “yes, fuck, show me.”

Villanelle’s smirk grows and she bites her lip to control it before brushing her hands slowly up her body. One hand settles on her breast over her t-shirt, squeezing softly, while the other reaches up to toy with her hair, curling it around her finger. 

“I started like this,” Villanelle says silkily, dropping her tone until it’s low and smooth, “and I imagined it was your hands,” she pinches a nipple through the shirt and gasps, “and your teeth.” 

Villanelle knows she looks good right now in only an off-the-shoulder white tee and no bra, just pink lace underwear separating her damp heat from Eve. She stretches her neck and curves her back, giving Eve a show, and the hands on her thighs grip harder. 

“Then what?”

Villanelle smiles down at Eve. 

“I’d play with my tits for a bit,” Villanelle husks out, still gently twisting her nipple, “then I’d start to…” and she trails a hand down, slowly, over the loose folds of her t-shirt until her fingers reach the hem and dip further, finding lace. 

Her hips are still softly rolling into Eve’s, but it’s like her body knows she’s getting close to where it wants her to be, and the flutter her fingertips cause makes her hips jerk once out of rhythm. Eve moans, and her hands slide around to Villanelle’s ass. 

Villanelle whimpers as Eve’s hands squeeze her, and her rolling falters again. 

“What next, baby?” Eve murmurs, eyes darting from Villanelle’s face to her chest, where she knows her nipples are hard through the white cotton. “Show me.”

And god, the almost demanding tone in Eve’s voice just  _ does _ something to Villanelle, and her fingers slide underneath the pink lace with barely any say so on her part. 

Villanelle throws her head back when she encounters already slick heat. 

“Fuck.” Villanelle gasps, and she feels herself getting wetter as her fingers start to swirl. 

“Keep talking.” Eve moans, tilting her hips up into Villanelle. “Shit, please keep talking.”

Circling her fingertips, Villanelle whines and nods, closing her eyes. 

“I’d touch myself while thinking of you pushing me down onto the table, keeping me there with one hand and reaching around with the other.”

“Uh huh,” Eve says, voice rough, “and then what did I do?”

And fuck, Villanelle has done this sort of thing before with the occasional fling, but it’s never made her this hot, this wet. She’d always done it to simply tease a little, but it’s so far from a tease with Eve below her, asking questions and reacting so deliciously to her answers. 

“You rubbed my clit, and then when I was almost coming, you pulled back.”

Villanelle rubs her clit faster, just like Eve had done back then, and it’s too much, it’s so much. She falls forward, her free hand hitting the mattress above Eve’s shoulder and holding her up as she moans. 

She can feel Eve’s breath hot against her neck, and the hands on her ass squeeze again, rocking Villanelle forward as she continues to stroke quickly over her clit. 

“You pulled back,” Villanelle says around a groan which Eve mirrors, “and you played with my tits until I begged…  _ oh _ . ” Villanelle trails off with a moan, sliding her fingers lower and teasing her own entrance. 

“You begged for what, baby?” Eve murmurs into her ear, lips brushing hotly against Villanelle’s skin. 

“For you to fuck me.”

Eve groans at Villanelle’s confession, and Villanelle feels Eve’s hands slide from her ass down to the back of her thighs and then up, up, dragging over her back with blunt nails that draw blazing lines with a direct link to Villanelle’s throbbing centre. 

“Eve, please touch me.” Villanelle whispers, arm shaking with the effort to keep herself from crashing down into the woman. “Please.”

But Eve just chuckles darkly, breathlessly. 

“But you’re doing such a good job by yourself.” Eve murmurs with a smirk, meeting Villanelle’s eyes.

The praise sends a thrill through her and she slips two fingers inside herself, whining at the stretch and the way her walls clutch wetly. She starts a slow rhythm, a deep push and pull that has her gasping, moaning into the hot air between Eve’s open mouth and her own. 

“I fucked you so hard over the table that your legs gave out.” Eve mumbles, moving to kiss at Villanelle’s neck, punctuating her dirty talk with a bite that has Villanelle fingers speeding up. “So I laid you out on the table…”

Villanelle is whimpering now, and she drags her fingers out of herself to rub furiously at her clit, pressing and pinching it to the tune of Eve’s voice shaking with lust. 

“I spread your legs,” Eve whispers and Villanelle is nodding and she doesn’t know why, she just knows that yes, yes,  _ yes _ , “and I ate you out until you came again and again in my mouth…” 

And fuck she’s going to come, Villanelle is going to come, she just needs, she needs-

“Eve, I’m- I’m-”

“Come, come for me baby, fuck, please-”

It pushes Villanelle over, that final command, that  _ please _ . 

She freezes, shakes, feels everything rushing over her at once, every feeling and emotion from the past week, the past seven months, the past five years, and they hit her hard in the chest and she’s gasping, she’s gasping- 

The orgasm rolls through her like thunder, the most perfect storm, lightning bolts striking and wind rushing. Her heart hammers as she clenches and throbs, her fingers wet and eyes shut tight and mouth open, moaning, pressing her sticky forehead to Eve’s.

The wave slows and she catches her breath, and lightheaded she lets herself drop softly onto Eve, resting her full weight on the woman beneath her as she tries to remember the last time she felt so… good. 

Eve’s skin is dewy against hers, shimmering in the low light of the room beneath the old fairy lights strung above Villanelle’s bed. 

“You look like magic.” Villanelle murmurs when she finds her voice, a weak croaky thing that makes Eve’s lashes flutter. Before she knows it she’s dragged into another kiss, Eve biting at her lower lip and stoking a fire Villanelle was sure had just been put out. 

She cups Eve’s face in her hands and smoothes her thumbs over soft cheeks, revelling in the languid stroke of their tongues and the plush press of their lips as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss. 

When Villanelle starts to trail her hand down Eve’s stomach, fingers around her wrist stop her movements. 

“Wait,” Eve murmurs, and then they’re moving, they’re rolling, and Villanelle is on her back, “just… just one more.”

Villanelle is about to ask one more what, but then Eve is sliding down her body, peppering her flushed skin with kisses, and  _ oh _ , one more…  _ oh _ . 

Eve doesn’t tease, lips finding her immediately, a tongue dragging through sensitive folds as Villanelle bucks up. Hands slide under her legs and settle on her hips, nails digging half moons into the soft skin and holding Villanelle there as Eve’s mouth works and works and works and-

“ _ There _ , Eve, right there.” Villanelle sighs as Eve’s tongue flicks the side of her clit. 

The sigh turns into a gasp which trails off into a moan as Eve focuses on the sweet spot, tongue pointed and flicking until Villanelle is whimpering sinfully and pulling at Eve’s hair. 

Her second orgasm is already building, and when Eve’s tongue leaves her clit to dip lower and inside Villanelle pulls sharply on Eve’s hair. She moans at the pain and pleasure and Villanelle feels the vibrations of it send her even closer to the edge. 

“I’m going to come again,” Villanelle says breathlessly, hissing from the sting of Eve’s fingernails pressing deeper into her skin. “Eve, don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop-”

She cuts herself off with a sharp moan and throws her head back as Eve wraps her lips around her clit and sucks gently, tongue stroking all the while and nails digging all the while and mouth working all the while and-

It’s not as big, but it’s just a beautiful. 

The wave, the height, the crash, the calm. Villanelle rides it, moaning, gasping Eve’s name out during the rise and fall until she was no breath left, Eve’s face sticky between her thighs. She looks down at the woman when she can, when she’s sure she won’t fall apart, and Eve is already looking up at her with the darkest yet warmest eyes and Villanelle just wants to fall into them. 

“Get up here.” Villanelle says quietly. 

Eve crawls up with all the grace of an athlete, stopping to kiss Villanelle. She tastes herself on Eve’s lips and moans softly, bringing her hands to the smooth skin of Eve’s back and sliding down until they settle on Eve’s ass. 

She tugs, suggestively. 

“Get up here.” Villanelle says again, but this time she speaks through a smirk and eyes Eve coquettishly, who moans, breathless, when it clicks what Villanelle is asking for. 

Eve kisses her once more, licking deep into Villanelle’s mouth and dragging a husky moan from the blonde, who starts to tug more incessantly at Eve. It’s only been a week and a half since she last tasted her but she feels desperate, parched. 

“Please baby, sit on my face.” Villanelle murmurs against Eve’s lips. 

“God,” Eve moans, pressing her forehead to Villanelle’s, “your voice is just… it does things to me.”

“Mmm,” Villanelle hums with a smirk, “you like it when I talk, don’t you.”

Eve nods against her, eyes slipping shut and hips starting to roll into Villanelle slowly. 

“You like it when I tell you what I want to do, what I want you to do.” 

Eve nods again and her breathing is shallower, faster, and her hips grind with more purpose. Villanelle takes Eve’s bottom lip between her teeth and nips it until Eve hisses. 

“Let me tell you what I want.” Villanelle says, letting go and soothing the bite with a kiss. “I want you to get up, sit on my face, and ride my mouth until you come, okay?”

She says it calmly, carefully, delivers it like an instruction with husky undertones, and Eve all but melts at it before kissing Villanelle once more and crawling up her body. 

The first touch of silken heat against Villanelle’s tongue has her clawing at Eve’s hips. 

The woman above her grunts at the sting and bucks sharply, Villanelle sighing at the slide of wet folds over her tongue. She doesn’t loosen her tight hold on Eve’s hips, instead guiding the woman into rocking over her mouth, back and forth until Villanelle is moaning at the wetness on her chin. 

Eve is tangy on her tongue and Villanelle is more addicted to the taste than ever, hungrily taking what Eve gives her while one hand slides around to tease her entrance.

“Yes,” Eve gasps, trying to push down onto Villanelle’s fingers, “please, baby.”

Usually Villanelle would tease for longer, dip her fingers just deep enough for Eve to feel it but not enough to make her moan, pulling back and keeping her on edge until she’s begging. 

But tonight, after what they’ve been through, Villanelle wants to give Eve everything, anything, whatever the woman wants Villanelle will give, so she presses a finger up into clutching heat, and when Eve whines she adds another.

She lets Eve set the pace, lets Eve thrust down onto her fingers and mouth hard as she lies beneath her, feeling her own heart thud heavily against her ribs. 

“I’m close,” Eve pants, and Villanelle bears the bed frame creak as Eve grabs the headboard for support, “I’m- don’t stop, baby, don’t stop.”

And Villanelle knows she’ll never stop. Never, not after they’ve finished tonight, not after they’ve talked about them, not after a week or a month or a year. She’ll never stop giving all she has to Eve, all she  _ is _ to Eve. 

She opens her eyes and at Eve’s new angle Villanelle can just see her face, mouth open and gasping, eyes shut tight against pleasure. 

“Eve,” she takes a quick breath, pulling back to watch Eve’s eyes flutter open, “Eve, look at me.”

Brown eyes blown almost entirely black stare down at her, hooded, and Villanelle feels herself falling, falling-

Eve lifts up and Villanelle pushes a third finger in as she comes down again, drawing a keening moan from Eve whose eyes shut briefly before flickering open again, and Villanelle wants it to happen now, now, while Eve’s eyes are full of fire and warmth and  _ want _ . 

Villanelle leans forward and wraps her lips around Eve’s clit, sucks, curls her fingers, digs her nails into soft skin and Eve shakes and cuts off her own groans with a sharp gasp and-

And Eve comes, and Villanelle drags her tongue hungrily over slick folds, catching the wetness that comes, catching it and moaning at the taste and the rush and at Eve, Eve who is whimpering breathlessly and rolling her hips firmly and coming and coming, all for Villanelle. 

It’s a while before Eve stops moving, a while before she slowly moves back down Villanelle’s body. She rolls onto her side next to her and puts her hand on Villanelle’s jaw, softly turning her so that they’re face to face. 

“I missed you so much.” Eve murmurs into the space between them. “Never again, I promise.”

“Good,” Villanelle replies, rolling until she’s also on her side, then reaching down to pull the duvet over them, “and maybe make a note to listen to me if we have another argument, hmm?”

Eve scoffs and smiles, slides a hand onto Villanelle’s cheek, strokes delicately at her cheekbones sending little sparks of warmth straight to her chest. 

“I will.”

They’re quiet for a minute, both content to just breathe and watch the other, and Villanelle studies the pink flush on Eve’s skin, the swollen edge to her lips, the wild curls out of place from their fucking. 

“Eve?”

“Yeah?”

Villanelle wills her heart to stay steady. 

“What you said earlier, outside. Do you… were you serious? When you said you love me?”

Eve props herself up on an elbow and stares down at Villanelle, brown eyes full of sincerity. 

“Yes sweetheart, god yes. I love you, Villanelle.”

Her breath catches sweetly. 

“Oksana.”

Eve eyes her curiously. 

“What?”

“Oksana.” Villanelle repeats, smiling shyly. “My name. My real one.”

Eve blinks in surprise and her eyes look away in a stare that Villanelle knows means Eve is thinking. When she looks back, she’s smiling. 

“Oksana.” Eve says, like she’s testing it out on her tongue. “That’s pretty.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want me to call you Oksana?”

“No,” Villanelle shakes her head against the pillow, “I just wanted you to know it.”

Eve grins, and drops back down to bring her lips close to Villanelle’s, their noses brushing softly. 

“Good,” she murmurs against Villanelle’s lips, “because you’re Villanelle to me. You’re my Villanelle.”

Villanelle bites her lip to stop her growing smile. 

“That is very gay, Eve.”

“Yes, it is.” Eve agrees, and then she kisses Villanelle soundly. When she pulls back, it’s with soft eyes and a hushed voice that she says, “I love you.”

Villanelle lets the smile grow free. 

“I love you too.”

——

Villanelle doesn’t know what time it is. 

It’s dark outside and she can almost see stars through the window, her curtains still open. Eve is beside her on her front and Villanelle trails her fingers delicately over the dip of her back, back and forth, relishing in the softness of Eve’s skin. 

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Eve’s question takes her by surprise and she stops stroking for a second while she thinks. Eve is watching her, her head on the pillow and curls fanned out around her, brown eyes simply curious. 

Villanelle swallows. 

“Once.”

“Mm,” Eve hums, still watching Villanelle calmly, “who with?”

It’s weird being asked. Only one person has ever asked and that was Konstantin. For as bold and confident as Villanelle is, she does tend to keep things to herself; she’s never really cared about anyone enough to share stuff that means something to her. 

But she cares about Eve. 

“Anna.” Villanelle says quietly. “She is the girl I mentioned a while ago, the one who got punched for me.”

“I remember, and then you beat the guy up and got suspended, right?”

“Right,” Villanelle says with a small smile at how Eve remembers, “I scratched him to pieces and bit him, then kicked him in the stomach ‘til he cried.”

She watches Eve carefully for her reaction, but the woman merely lifts her eyebrows a little. 

“Bet no one crossed you again after that.”

Villanelle chuckles despite herself, and starts to draw patterns on Eve’s back with her fingertips again. 

“No, they did not.” Villanelle smiles, smug. “Anyway, Anna came to see me when I was suspended. She brought me a prickly pear cactus to say thank you. She said she’d seen me doodling plants on my notebook cover and guessed I must like them. No one had ever paid attention to me like that before.”

Eve just listens, eyes gently moving between Villanelle’s, soothing the blonde. Villanelle props herself up on her elbow. 

“She sort of just kept turning up after that. We started doing homework together, she had dinner with my parents and I a few times, stuff like that.” Villanelle swirls the shape of a rose across Eve’s back. “Then one evening while we were studying, she kissed me. I pulled away and she said sorry, but then I leant back in and kissed her instead. That’s how it went for a few months; kissing and studying.”

“What happened?” Eve asks quietly, brow creasing a little with concern. 

Villanelle sighs. 

“We would, what do Americans say? We would go to second base? And we were doing that one evening at hers. Her mother walked in.”

“Oh no.” Eve murmurs, pulling one hand from being tucked beneath herself to touch lightly at Villanelle’s cheek. “That’s not great in Russia, is it.”

“Not really, no.” Villanelle shrugs. “She called my parents, they collected me. I was not allowed to see Anna. They made me see a psychiatrist.”

Eve opens her mouth to talk, looking annoyed, but Villanelle smiles reassuringly. 

“I know, it is not nice.” Villanelle says. “But you know me, I am quite good at telling strangers what they want to hear. He ended our sessions after only two weeks, claiming I was fixed after I convinced him I just had not been thinking. My parents were pleased, and we never spoke of it again.” 

“What about Anna?”

Villanelle sighs, chest feeling a little heavy. She shuffles closer to Eve, runs her fingertips across her shoulder blades. 

“They also sent her to the doctor, but… but I guess she wanted to be fixed? She would not look at me at school, ignored me if I tried to talk to her. I went to her house one evening, I hid in the garden and threw a pebble at her window like in the movies?” Eve nods sadly, and Villanelle shrugs against the sheets again. “She saw me, and she came outside, and I thought maybe we would talk, you know? Because we were alone?”

Villanelle traces words on Eve’s back, draws planets down her spine.

“She told me to stay away from her, that what we did was wrong, and that if I still wanted it then I was a bad person. She said she had a new boyfriend, Max, and that she loved him. She said she never loved me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“I was 16, it is okay.” Villanelle says, even though she still remembers that stab to her chest. “And it all worked out in the end.”

“Because we’re together?” Eve suggests with a smile. 

“Oh, well yes, that.” Villanelle says with a small laugh. “But also because the next day at school I found this Max kid, he was 18 and liked sports, so I threw a studded football shoe at his head. He had to get stitches, it was so funny.”

Eve’s mouth is open, and Villanelle almost starts to worry before Eve scoffs with laughter.

“You are something else, Vil.” She says fondly, wrapping blonde hair gently around one finger. “Did you get suspended again?”

“My parents conveniently decided I should move schools before the head could make a decision.” Villanelle smirks, and Eve chuckles.

They stay like that for a while, smiling, Eve wrapping the lock of blonde hair around her finger and releasing it, over and over, as Villanelle continues to write poetry across her back. 

“V?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Villanelle wonders when those three words will stop making her heart skip, will stop filling her so completely with warmth that spreads through every single inch of her. She wonders if they ever will. 

“I love you too, Eve.”

Eve pushes herself up slightly onto her elbows and leans over, pressing a soft kiss to Villanelle’s lips. When she pulls back, her eyes are focussed. 

“I’ll never dump you for a Max.” Eve murmurs into the space between them. “I’ll never be embarrassed of you, or think you’re wrong or bad.” Eve sighs, kisses Villanelle’s cheek. “You’re… you’re  _ everything,  _ Villanelle, okay?”

And Villanelle hopes this spreading warmth will last forever. 

——

A year passes. 

It’s everything. 

——

“Are you absolutely sure about this Villanelle?”

Eve is poised next to her, leaning over her as Villanelle lies down, paper stencil in her hand and glasses pushed up into her curly hair. She’s still slightly tanned after their trip to Portugal that autumn. 

Villanelle grins. 

“How many times are you going to ask that?”

“I don’t know, how many times have I asked so far?”

“At least 8 times today alone.”

“Okay, then like… 32 more times?”

“Hmm.” Villanelle hums through a growing smile. “I am an adult, Eve, and I know what I want.”

“Kinky!”

“Hugo.” Eve throws the warning at the man in question getting ready to pierce someone’s nose. “Watch it.”

Villanelle glares at him with narrowed eyes as Hugo shrugs nonchalantly, then she turns back to Eve and quickly smiles again. 

“Okay, come on, just do it already.”

“A tattoo is a huge commitment Vill,” Eve says seriously, “you can’t just wash it off if you change your mind.”

“I am not going to change my mind! At least put the stencil on before you ask me again.”

“Okay, okay.” Eve mumbles, and Villanelle laughs. 

Eve presses the small circle of thin paper just below Villanelle’s covered left breast, on her ribs, running her fingers over it and then pulling it away slowly to reveal the purple lines left behind. 

“Right, how's the placement?”

Villanelle holds her chest flat and looks down at the small word reading ‘everything’ in purple ink, placed as close to her heart as it can be without it being scrawled across her tit. Eve holds a mirror up and Villanelle admires the bright outlines.

“That is good, now do it.”

Eve laughs nervously and scrapes her hair into a ponytail before putting her glasses on properly. She snaps latest gloves over her hands and fixes Villanelle with a stern look. 

“One last time sweetheart, are you sure about this? It’s…” Eve trails off and her eyes and voice soften, “it’s in my handwriting. What if you regret it one day?”

“Eve,” Villanelle says calmly, propping herself up on one elbow while cupping Eve’s cheek gently, “I do not know about you, but you are it for me. Whatever happens, you will always be it for me. You’re  _ everything _ . Okay?”

“Okay.” Eve murmurs with a shy smile. 

“So really, it’s down to you whether I’ll regret it or not. Make good choices.” She finishes with a pat to Eve’s cheek, who scoffs at the sudden change of tone. 

“Alright,” Eve reaches for her gun and presses her foot onto a pedal, making the gun buzz, “you ready sweetheart? This is gonna hurt.”

Villanelle smiles. 

“It will be worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow I can’t believe it’s over??? What the heck. Thank you so much to each and every one of you who took the time to read, comment, and kudos this lil thing. I can’t wait to write more fun stuff for you guys to enjoy. You better believe I’ve already written 4 chapters of my next one ;)
> 
> Peace and love xo


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